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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381131">The Art of Loving You (Part II)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samshine_and_Lollipops/pseuds/Samshine_and_Lollipops'>Samshine_and_Lollipops</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Art School [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Artist Sam Winchester, Attempted Murder, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bartender Gabriel (Supernatural), Bigotry &amp; Prejudice, Blood, Bukkake, But is it accidental?, But it's silly and self inflicted, By a total and under douche, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death In Dream, Cock &amp; Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Edible Body Paint, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Felching, Fire, Hallucinations, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Janitor Gabriel (Supernatural), Jericho characters, Life model Gabriel, Love, Lucifer is Called Luke (Supernatural), M/M, Medical Jargon, Misgendering, Near Death, Nightmares, Non-Linear Narrative, Not a death fic, Object Insertion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other POVs, POV Dean Winchester, POV Gabriel (Supernatural), POV Sam Winchester, Past Character Death, Porn with Feelings, Ridiculous Gabriel (Supernatural), Rimming, Rough Sex, Sam Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Serious Injuries, Smut, Student Sam Winchester, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Threats of torture, Transphobia, Unsafe Sex, bathroom policing, hit and run (offscreen not an established character), medical complications, naomi and zachariah are evil douches, past trauma, religion used as an excuse for bigotry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:46:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>117,830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samshine_and_Lollipops/pseuds/Samshine_and_Lollipops</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Past</p><p>Sam is working flat out to complete his senior project before the degree exhibition at the end of his course. It doesn’t help that he just came up with an idea for an extension that he finds he can’t ignore. He barely notices the rising tensions on campus, until he’s faced with something that forces him to take note. Should he abandon everything and just cut his losses? Or is it time to make a stand?</p><p>Present</p><p>Sam struggles to come to terms with the aftermath of the what happened that day. With every day that passes the odds are slowly diminishing. Everyone tells him not to give up, but he finds himself doing just that. He’s caught in a cycle of hope and grief and he feels like he’s slowly drowning. His friends gather around him, desperately trying to keep him afloat. But is it too late? Is he just as lost as Gabriel? And will either of them ever be found again?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Art School [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please note that this is the second part of a two part fic. It will not make sense if you don't read the first part. </p><p>The fic is written in a <b>non-linear</b>/fractured narrative, encompassing two different time frames. I will make it clear when switching between them so please pay attention to titles.</p><p>I have tagged as well as I think I can at the moment, but please be aware that more tags may be added as we go along. If there are any parts that I feel are potentially triggering I will warn in the chapter notes.</p><p>Just to let you know that my posting schedule will be far more sporadic than normal due to various responsibilities. I'm estimating once a week, but I can't promise anything. I wasn't sure whether to start posting or not, but I recon a bit of escapism is just what people need right now. So have some super angsty/porny/fluffy/ridiculous Sabriel nonsense.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Warning*: things may not be as they seem. Please see tags!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prologue</p><p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Gabriel smiles up at Sam, tries to keep his gaze. <em>On me kiddo. It’s ok</em>. He reaches out and grabs hold of Sam’s hand, giving it a brief tight squeeze before letting go. Yeesh those palms are super sweaty. He surreptitiously wipes his hand on the fabric of his dress pants before looking out over the gathered crowds. It could have been worse… Maybe. Ok not <em>much</em> worse. But some of those signs? Hilarious. </p><p>One enterprising dickbag is holding a sign adorned with Gabriel’s image. ‘He’s no angel’ written across it, strategically placed to effectively censor the naughty bits. A somewhat interesting move as it’s obviously a screengrab from… hmm, about 30 minutes into his second Casa Erotica movie. The thought of the guy watching all the way through to that point, just to get a particularly raunchy shot of the puppy pile scene. Hells, that… that makes Gabriel’s day. </p><p>Oh and look there, one of his personal favorites. Two badly drawn restroom symbols holding hands, one with equally badly drawn wings. Placed inside a circle with a cross through the center. Wait are they supposed to be stick figures? This guy’s no Picasso, that’s for sure. And underneath, in angry red letters, <em>ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND GABRIEL.</em> The knucklehead holding the sign clearly didn’t plan his spacing out properly. The last few letters of his name are squashed together before turning sideways and running down the edge of the sign. Lots of angry underlining on the ‘NOT’. Paint still wet and dripping. Gabriel tilts his head sideways and draws his brows together. Kinda looks like blood. Super classy. </p><p>He chuckles and waves. The man glares at him before resuming his chanting. Gabriel leans into Sam’s side, rising up on his tiptoes to share a word in his ear.</p><p>“Lucky your name’s Sam and not Adam, hey. Otherwise this,” he gestures between them, “clearly couldn’t happen.”</p><p>Sam just makes a little noise in the back of his throat, eyes dropping to his feet, like he’s willing them to move ever forwards. Gabriel purses his lips. He gives Sam’s arm one more reasuring squeeze before holding his head high and making a little detour towards the crowds, grinning and bowing, holding his hand up for hi-fives that never land. </p><p>“Oh come on! Don’t leave me hanging.” </p><p>He smirks as a particularly wrathful young lady looks at his raised hand with wide eyes then back at Gabriel with an expression that would seem to suggest he just extended his dick instead of his hand… and insisted she bear his fist born. Yikes. Thanks but no thanks. He wiggles his eyebrows at her anyway, before spinning around and making his way quickly back to Sam’s side. </p><p>That’s when he sees it. The flash of movement. The figure emerging from the crowds with a purposeful stride. Face twisted. Not with anger, but with that all too familiar cold facsimile of a smile. And in his hand-</p><p>He has no time to think, just time to react. He-</p><p>He’s frozen in place. His limbs won’t move. Legs like solid marble. He can’t shift a muscle. </p><p>
  <em>No nonononono NO!</em>
</p><p>He watches in horror as the blade plunges into Sam’s belly, twists, then pulls back before plunging forward again…</p><p>
  <em>NOOOOOOOO!</em>
</p><p>His voice is just as frozen as his limbs. Sam’s shirt quickly turns scarlet. He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is more blood.</p><p>
  <em>No no. This isn’t what happened… it isn’t…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>Dean drags the figure backwards. Then he’s gone. Just gone. They’re… they’re all gone, in an instant. The jeering crowds. The milling onlookers. Those that came out in support, waving rainbow flags and cheering them on. Everyone. Gone. All except-</p><p>He doesn’t have time to think about it. In that moment his feet come unstuck. He rushes forward, grabs Sam’s arms, tries to keep hold of him as he crumples to the ground. But he’s not strong enough, Sam’s dead weight too much for him to bear. </p><p>
  <em>No. No he can’t. He didn’t. He can’t.</em>
</p><p>Gabriel falls to his knees, cradles Sam’s head in his hands, watches as the light fades from his eyes.</p><p>“No. Sam. Nononono. Stay with me…”</p><p>Sam blinks up at him once more before his eyes become lifeless and glassy.</p><p>Gabriel holds back his head and screams into the open heavens above him.</p><p>“<em>THIS ISN’T WHAT HAPPENED!</em>”</p><p>The weight is suddenly gone. Heart in his throat, he looks down at his empty hands. There’s nothing. Nothing. No sign of the man he loved with all his heart. </p><p>“This isn’t what happened,” he sobs, curling in on himself.</p><p>The sky starts to darken, all color receeding from the ground beneath his palms. The world closes in around him. And then there’s nothing. Nothing left, but cold… pain… loss. Even that fades in time, until all he feels is a vast ever encompassing emptiness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So that was nice and cheerful... Ah sorry? Yeah there's a fair dollop of angst in this one... but also an enormous amount of fluff, some silliness and a whole lot of smut. I'll see you in about a week. Stay safe x</p><p>EDIT: adding this here to save any confusion... In my research I found that although it technically shouldn't be possible a lot of patients who wake from comas report experiencing a series of nightmares. I guess it depends on the reason for the coma. Here, what's happening is Gabriel's mind surfacing just long enough for him to start processing when happened to him, but of course his worst fears manifest... Of being too late to save Sam. Sam is in fact perfectly ok... physically. Mentally not so much. So as horrible as this is... we have confirmation that Gabriel is indeed still in there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gabriel prepares a little surprise for Sam with the help of Jo. Also, big bad is baaaaaaad.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We start off the past timeline a couple of weeks after we left off in the previous part...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>THREE AND A HALF MONTHS AGO</p><p>ZACHARIAH</p><p>In the end, it was remarkably simple. A little dip into the files. A few additions made. One or two breadcrumbs left where they could easily be found, should one know where to look for them. Reputation is a tenous thing and in this glorious day where so many young people choose to live their lives on social media websites, so easy to tear apart. But they didn’t even need to do that. Merely hinting at the possible consequences was sufficient. The simpering fool left so readily. Fearful for his future, fearful of his sordid past… well at least that of his deplorable parents. That was a gift. It was an easy manipulation. Who wouldn’t believe that the son of two addicts could go down that road himself? </p><p>And then it was a simple matter of positioning himself. A few bribes here and there. Of little consequence.</p><p>And so here he is, facing the small gathering of young minds. So eager to please. So easy to shape and mold as he wishes. He may have lost a percentage, a larger one than expected. But the losses are exceptable. Necessary even. He has no wish to contend with a tide of descent. What he needs is obedience, plain and simple obedience. And these children, for although many of them have left their parental homes and spheres of influence, they remain that… children. They will fall into line. Most are little more than bleeting sheep. Some… some hold far more potential. His eyes scan the crowd. That one, there. There’s something in his eyes. Cold, hard, a sort of mocking amusement. He could be trouble. He could be that little thread of descent. But Zachariah does not think so. On paper he’s a typical trust fund cliché. Born into privilege, lacking any real struggles in life. Absent parents that throw money instead of affection at their offspring. Politicians. More wrapped up in their careers than raising their only child. But this young man is no slacker, no simpering mess of self pity and theatrics. No, Zachariah gets the impression that he is something far more interesting. And if he can find a way to persuade, to draw him to his side… Then the possibilities for what they might achieve? Limitless.</p><p>Zachariah leans across the desk. He lets a smile spread across his features.</p><p>“Now that little unpleasantness is over, shall we get down to business?” He pauses, lets his eyes roam over the eager young faces, hanging on his every word. He chuckles and leans back. “Restrooms.” Some eyebrows inevitably raise at that, but some lean forward in their seats. “Isn’t it about time that we protect the vulnerable from the insiduous deceit of the liberal narrative? Isn’t it time we stop all this bullying nonsense and get back to rational decency?”</p><p>There are a few nods, even a few muttered calls of ascent. Zachariah’s eyes land on one face in particular. He watches as that mocking smile twists into something a little more… genuine, though the coldness remains. Watches as the young man nods his head.</p><p>He can’t help the smile that spreads across his own features once more. It’s time he takes back control. And with these young people at his beck and call, there’s no guessing at what he might achieve.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>“Piece of cherry pie,” Gabriel exclaims, climbing to his feet, ignoring his audibly creaking knees and pushing a few sweaty clumps of hair from his forehead. “See I told you I could do it myself. Ye of little faith...”</p><p>“Cake,” Jo mutters with a long sigh. Gabriel rolls his eyes. Pie sounds better. “And it’s a flat pack Gabriel. You hardly built the Taj Mahal. If you’re really finished, how about you actually offer your willing slave a cup of coffee or something?”</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes again, but he pads through to the kitchen and busies himself preparing a cup, shoving a few leftover cookies on a plate, before returning to the spare room. No, not spare room. Studio. Sam’s studio. Gabriel can’t wait to see Sam’s face when he returns later tonight. They’ve achived so much in such a little time. And since Sam’s working for a few hours in the life drawing room after classes… Given a little more elbow grease, they should have it done by the time he gets back. Gabriel’s been itching to do this ever since he moved in proper. </p><p>But… well… any efforts he may have made were somewhat hampered by the rather nasty chest infection he landed himself with after spending over an hour getting soaked through at a bus stop, making horrendous life choices and… No. He needs to stop thinking about it. He screwed up. Screwed up monumentally. But Sam… God, Gabriel doesn’t know how he got so goddamn lucky… but Sam forgave him for that. Kept on apologising himself for getting angry, for not getting Gabriel inside sooner, especially after Gabriel got sick. The puppy dog eyes reached whole new levels of potency as Sam wiped his sweaty brow and brought him mug after mug of warm soup. Honestly, it got so bad that Gabriel frequently pretended he was asleep. He couldn’t take any more. </p><p>He cried a lot. Lots of unattractive sobbing. Red faced and snotty. Super unattractive. Gabriel not Sam. Actually Sam too. But way more attractively. It figures that Sam would be an attractive crier. Of course he would. Can’t help being criminally gorgeous even as he sobs his heart out.</p><p>But they got over it. It’s in the past and they’re moving forward. And somehow, ridiculously, they’re stronger for it. There’s no niggling doubt. No fear. No worry that his life could implode at a moment’s notice. Occasionally he still gets a little insecure. Who the hells doesn’t? They have the odd squabble. Like when Sam refused to have sex with him when he had that inconvenient little chest infection. Gabriel snaps on occasion. Makes a retort that’s dripping with sarcasm. Sam purses those gorgeous lips and levels bitchfaces at him. Often times gives an enormous amount of sass back. And sometimes… sometimes Gabriel worries that maybe he’s too much. That Sam will one day turn around and realise that. </p><p>But then… then Sam just gives him that look. And then they hug it out. Ok so maybe they fuck it out. Frequently. Except with the chest infection. Sam was really stubborn with that one, but he did relent with a hand job… And then they hold each other. Talk it out. And it blows over. Because they’ve been through so much. Petty arguments are small fry compared to what they’ve been through. And it’s ok. It’s all ok. More than.</p><p>Gabriel smiles as he pads over to where Jo is crouched under a shelf, busily screwing some sort of supporting contraption underneath. He wafts the coffee under her nose. She makes an annoyed noise and mutters something under her breath. Something that contains the familiar phrase <em>Christ sake Gabriel</em>. And then she’s putting her tools down, accepting the mug with a mild glare and… YOWCH! And a goddamn thump on his bicep. He sets down the plate of cookies and rubs his arm vigorously, glaring pointedly at her all the while. But she utterly fails to apologise or offer any crumb of explanation, just takes a sip of coffee and reaches for a cookie.</p><p>“Hello? What the hell was that for?” He grumbles, making a show of drawing back the sleeve of his shirt and checking for bruises.</p><p>“For being a goddamn idiot Gabriel,” she huffs after a beat, after she’s settled herself down in the comfort of his easy chair.</p><p>“Wow thanks for the loving pep talk Joster. Can always count on you to boost my ego.”</p><p>She huffs out another breath. “Your ego’s the size of a small planet, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t need any boosting. And you know what the hell I’m talking about, so quit playing the wounded Princess.”</p><p>“Oh come on, you loved seeing me in that pink tutu, don’t deny it Jo-kins. I saw you checkin out my legs in those tights.” He raises an eyebrow, grabs a cookie and hops up on the desk. It creaks a little ominously, but he ignores it. It’ll be fine. It’s just settling in.</p><p>“And there you go deflecting again.”</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes, but at her look, his shoulders slump. He swallows and looks away. </p><p>“You know what happened the last time.”</p><p>Jo sighs. He can hear her shift in her seat. She’s silent for a moment, but when she does speak again, her tone’s a little more consilatory. “I do Gabriel. I get that. You told me… eventually. Only took two years and a bottle of bourbon but… Damn it, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you leaving your friends in the dark, leaving us behind. I get the fear. I get the worry. But what I don’t get is you not coming to me… or Cas… or even Luke.” She draws in a breath and lets out a small laugh. “Ok maybe not Luke. He’d probably have marched over here and dragged Sam out by his hair without asking any questions-”</p><p>“Yeesh Jo I do not need that mental image. What the Hells? No one gets to grab hold of those luscious locks. No one but me. In the throws of passion. While he holds me up against the wall and-”</p><p>“Christ Gabe, will you quit it!”</p><p>“No?” Gabriel grumbles. He lets out a long breath, trying to ignore the mother hen look Jo’s now throwing at him. Yeesh, she’s as bad as her mother.</p><p>Jo sighs, shakes her head and looks away, brow furrowed. Gabriel looks away too, busies himself with shovelling the cookie in his mouth. Mmm not bad, not bad at all.</p><p>“We could have helped you.”</p><p>Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet, subdued, sad instead of sarcastic. He feels his eyes begin to sting. He rubs them furiously, hoping that she won’t notice, but of course she does. She makes a little noise in the back of her throat, gets up from the easy chair and walks over, settling at his side. The desk makes another ominous noise as she leans against it. She looks down, momentarily distracted, but after a beat shakes her head and looks up at him. </p><p>“You have friends here Gabriel. Family who care a hell of a lot about you. There’s no reason for you to leave that all behind… even if the worst was true… And seriously Gabe, I honestly don’t know why you thought Sam would…” She stops herself, makes a frustrated noise, running her hands back through her hair. “We could have eased your mind, even sounded him out. You didn’t need to face any of that alone. We’re your family and we’ve got your back. You got that?”</p><p>Oh great, tears. Fucking tears. He rubs his hand over his face. Snot. Snot too. Fan-fucking-tastic. </p><p>Jo sighs. She pushes off the desk and grabs a Kleenex, handing it to him and making a face as he blows his nose noisily. </p><p>“I’m sorry ok?” Gabriel says, voice coming out sounding a little harsher and more sarcastic than he intended. She raises an eyebrow at him. He huffs out a long breath, purses his lips and looks back at her. “I’m sorry… I really am. I didn’t mean… Jo, it was too much… and I did what I always do…” He sniffs, eyes sliding away from her worried gaze. “Old habits die hard and all that jazz.”</p><p>Jo squeezes his forearm, letting out a heavy sigh. “I get that. But… you pull that shit again? I’m gonna send Luke to track you down and drag your ass back here. Then you really will be sorry.”</p><p>Gabriel snorts out a startled laugh, making his damn nose run again. He wipes it thoroughly before looking up at her. “That’s exactly what Cassie said. Can’t believe you’d both sic Lucy on me without a by or leave. Honestly, where’s the love?”</p><p>“Oh it is love,” Jo smirks, moving to his side again. “Tough love.” She leans back, making a face as the desk makes another groaning noise. “Are you sure you put this thing together properly?”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “Of course I did. It’s a flat pack. I’m not a complete moron.”</p><p>Jo raises an disbelieving eyebrow, bends down, and starts rifling through the packaging, standing up a moment later brandishing what looks like a wooden dowel. </p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“It’s a spare.”</p><p>She levels a look at him. “They never give you spares.”</p><p>“Yeesh Jo, those are just thrown into the mix to test your levels of commitment. They don’t matter.” He throws his hands into the air. The desk makes a rather suspect noise with the motion. Maybe there’s a slight wobble.</p><p>“And when you decide to <em>Christen</em> the new room by insisting Sam bends you over it and the thing collapses beneath you, leaving you in a sorry heap of sweaty limbs and-”</p><p>“Wow thanks for the visual there Joster. Gotta tell you, I hadn’t even considered it. Perfect way to test out the new digs.” </p><p>He knocks on the wooden surface and lets out a startled yelp as the whole thing suddenly pitches sideways. Jo grabs hold of him, haults his progress floorways. They stagger together, Jo straining a little under his significantly larger body mass… laughing… goddamn laughing all the while. When he finally finds his equilibrium, he glares down at her. She laughs once more, reaching up to straighten his messy hair. He grumbles and swats her hand away. She doesn’t let go, just pulls him closer, into a great big bear hug.</p><p>“I love you Gabriel. Don’t you dare do that again.”</p><p>Gabriel thinks about making a flippant remark, maybe a highly inappropriate one that’ll make her abruptly let go and make a face at him, maybe smack him on the arm again. But instead he lets out a long breath and wraps his own arms around her, hooking his chin over her shoulder.</p><p>“I won’t,” he murmurs, almost too quiet to hear. But she gets it anyway, squeezing him a little tighter in response. Almost so tight that he can’t breathe. He thinks about making a flippant remark about that too, but instead he just squeezes her right the hell back. “Love you too Jo-ster. Love you too.”</p><p>~~~</p><p>Gabriel dashes through with the last bundle, carefully placing the photo on the admittedly considerably sturdier desk, before dumping his remaining burdens on the floor in front of the shelves. Yuch he’s getting hot. So damn hot. He quickly undoes the remaining buttons on his shirt plackard and swipes a few errant sweaty strands from his forehead. No time for a shower or a costume change. Sam’s due back any moment and it has to be perfect. Drawing his lower lip into his mouth, he bends down and picks up a few items, stacking them a little haphardly on the shelves. Ok maybe not perfect. He doesn’t exactly have time for that, doesn’t have a clue how to arrange all these materials either. It doesn’t matter. Sam can rearrange however he pleases. The main thing is, that he gets it all in here. Gets it all set up for the big reveal. With the last few items placed, he heads over to the desk, pinning the picture right above it and grabbing a post-it note. He scrawls some words on it and sticks the post-it right there. Perfect.</p><p>Oh wait. He grabs another and scrawls a heart, stepping over to Sam’s easel and sticking it on the cross support. Now it’s perfect. And just in the nick of time. He hears the sound of keys in the door. With one last look about the room, he quickly makes his way out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him and skipping through to the main room just as the front door opens, just as Sam’s shaggy head appears through the doorway. A wide smile stretches across his features at the sight. Perfect timing. Perfect… perfect. He maybe makes a little involunary growling noise in the back of his throat. Sam closes the door behind him, shucks his jacket and deposits his belongings on the floor, tucking his hair behind his ears before looking up at Gabriel, a soft smile lighting up his already beautiful face. </p><p>He closes the distance between them in a few giant strides, hands coming up to cradle Gabriel’s jaw as he dips down and presses a gentle kiss to Gabriel’s lips. Gabriel groans into the kiss. He’s tempted to grab hold of the back of his neck, maybe his hair, pull him down into a deep and far dirtier kiss. But no. He’s way too excited for that. Instead he pulls back and grins up at Sam. He can’t wait, can’t wait a moment more. To see Sam’s face. To give Sam the best damn gift he’s ever been given in his life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Those tricksy dowels. This was not written from personal experience... Nope... Not admitting a thing.</p><p>(FYI: chapter 3... I'm bringing the smut. With a capital S. Seriously. I don't know if it's the lockdown of what but this fic is becoming a serious smut fest. Don't worry there is plot and emotion and silliness in there, but there's also a shit tonne of smut)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gabriel shows Sam his new studio. (Past time thread)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow that summary sounds really boring. What we actually have here is a huge dollop of porny porn. My Holiday gift for you if you will. Here's a pornado for you. What do you mean you didn't ask for a pornado? Oh well I'll give you a few feels too...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SAM</p><p>February is almost over, March drawing near. It’s a mild night, the promise of spring not so far away. He walks slowly, taking pleasure in the journey. In the ground beneath his feet, in the stars stretched out above. He feels light. Worry taking a back seat for once. A sense of hope present in the center of his chest. Work on his senior project is going well. Although he’s very much in the beginning stages, the panel’s prepared, the initial marks made. It’s a big piece. Certainly too big to carry home, but also too… well soon it will be clear just how controversial it is. And so, every time he finishes, he has to carefully store it away in Ellen’s private store room with her own pieces, ever glad that he has her backing, that he has her support.</p><p>But more than that, much more than that, is the thought of what he’s coming home to. Who he’s coming home to. Gabriel. They’ve been through so damn much. The last couple of weeks have been tough. Some of the toughest that Sam’s ever experienced. Gabriel leaving like that, it left it’s mark on their relationship. Sam struggled. He can’t deny that. And then Gabriel got sick and he struggled with that even more. The deep feelings of guilt. Gabriel may have told him that there’s nothing to forgive… that Sam had every right to feel the way he did, but Sam knows he should have acted differently. Should have swallowed down his pride. Put Gabriel before all those feelings of hurt, instead of giving in to those emotions and in the process jeapordising Gabriel’s health.</p><p>And then there was the insecurity. The fear that maybe at the next sign of trouble, Gabriel would turn and flee. But little by little, as he nursed Gabriel back to health, as Gabriel shared the troubles of his past… All of it. Finally. It began to feel like they’d finally weathered the storm.  It was a lot to take in. Sam felt a deep all consuming rage, then he felt achingly sad. That Gabriel went through that. That he was put through that. That he couldn’t help but fear the worst.</p><p>Maybe he understood. Finally really understood. That sense of hurt wasn’t easy to let go of. But knowing what he knows now, he can accept it. Can accept why Gabriel did what he did. </p><p>They argued, sometimes spectacularly, through it all and well out the other end. Both frustrated. Both hurting. But somehow it was easy. To find comfort in each other’s arms. To lose themselves in each other’s bodies, in their combined pleasures, in that perfect connection. And then it was so much simpler. To talk. To be open. To share their deepest fears, to reasure, to love.</p><p>He’s not delusional enough to believe that all their problems are solved. To think that old habits won’t resurface, to think that all those insecurities they’ve both harboured won’t continue to effect them on some level. There are bound to be a few bumps in the road ahead, but they’ll face them together. So much stronger than they were before. </p><p>He’s home. He was so lost in thought that the journey barely seemed to take any time at all. He looks up at their apartment. The curtains are drawn, but the lights are on. Gabriel’s home. Just like he said he would be. He pauses, takes a deep breath. Sometimes… sometimes he still gets that sense of panic. That sense of dread. That he’ll come home to an apartment that’s not just empty, but with all traces of Gabriel gone. It’s ridiculous. He knows it is, but the fear is a lot harder to shake than the hurt, the sense of betrayal. The nightmares haven’t quite left him. That ever present image of the abandoned cuff seared into his mind. But every time he sleeps fitfully, every time he wakes with a start, heart pounding and body covered in a sheen of sweat, Gabriel holds him closer, tangles their limbs together, often climbs sleepily half on top of him, before drifting off again a moment later. And he knows. It’s ok. Gabriel’s here. He’s not going anywhere.</p><p>Sam shakes his head, heart swelling again with anticipation, warmth. He knows that Gabriel will be returning to work at the Roadhouse soon, and to his Janitorial duties. They really need to enjoy what time they have left before life becomes a little more hectic again. Gabriel’s definitely right on that count. He crosses the street, lets himself in and makes his way up the stairs. His heart rate picks up again, but for a whole different reason.</p><p>When he gets in the door, he busies himself shedding his outer layers and dumping his belongings, takes a deep breath, trying to calm his hammering heartbeat. He can feel Gabriel hovering… Ok now he can hear him. Sam tucks his hair behind his ears, unable to help the smile that spreads across his features as he finally looks up. Straightening, he closes the distance between them, leaning in for a soft kiss, hands cradling Gabriel’s jaw. He frowns. Gabriel’s making the usual sounds of pleasure, but he feels… he feels kind of clammy. Gabriel pulls back, grinning widely. But his eyes look a little too wide, sweat standing out on his brow, neck, chest. Gabriel’s opened all the buttons on his button plackard, the pale skin of his chest that’s visible through the opening is shiny with it.</p><p>“Eyes up here Samsquatch,” Gabriel chuckles, placing one index finger under his chin and poking him until he looks up. </p><p>Damn it, his hair’s dark and damp too and he definitely looks delirious. He’s not wheezing or coughing but… The infection must have come back. Shit.</p><p>Gabriel doesn’t seem to notice his worry. He’s practically vibrating on the spot, grabbing Sam’s hand in his sweaty palm and starting to drag him towards their room. No, Dean’s room. Or rather the spare room. Is he hallucinating again? The last time was kind of terrifying at the time, even if they laughed about it afterwards.</p><p>He halts abruptly at the same time as Sam grabs hold of his arm.</p><p>“Wait!” </p><p>They both say it at the same time. Gabriel blinks up at him. </p><p>“Gabe… I think you’re sick again. We need to… We need to go back to the doctors, get you another script.”</p><p>Gabriel just stares at him for a moment, then he barks out a loud laugh, rocking back on his heels.</p><p>Sam sighs. “Gabe. You’re covered in sweat and I think… uh… maybe…” He trails off. He really can’t think of a delicate way of saying that Gabriel actually kind of looks like a crazy person right now.</p><p>Gabriel just shakes his head and beams up at Sam, eyes glittering with amusement. And Sam just looks right back.</p><p>“Yeesh Sam, you’re killin me with those puppy dog eyes. I’m fine. Peachy.” He circles his index finger over his sweaty face. “This…” He raises an arm and makes a face at the sweat circle under his armpit. “Ok that’s kind of gross. But I’m not sick. Just been workin my sweet tush off all day on a little project.”</p><p>Sam just stares at him. He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Sam’s not sure whether to be relieved… or more worried. </p><p>“Project?” He tentatively asks after a beat.</p><p>Gabriel raises one damp eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards on the same side. He rocks back on his heels again, flinging his arms out dramatically, lips spreading into a cheshire cat grin.</p><p>“Come on my Samilicious. Can’t tell you that. Can’t give the game away. That would be no fun at all.” At his no doubt baffled expression, Gabriel makes a face at him and shakes his head. “It’s a surprise!” The grin soon resurfaces, those beautiful dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>“Uh…”</p><p>He really can’t think of a response as Gabriel circles behind him, reaching up and pulling down insistantly on his shoulders. He obediently crouches down a little, trying not to tense up too much as Gabriel plasters his body to Sam’s back, sweaty palms firmly clamped over his eyes. Whatever this is, Gabriel’s clearly excited about it. Somewhat deliriously excited. And the last thing Sam wants to do is rain on his parade. </p><p>They shuffle awkwardly towards Dean’s old room, Gabriel letting go briefly to open the door after making Sam promise to keep his eyes closed. Sam braces himself. Keeps his eyes shut even when Gabriel lets him go again. Mind spinning through the possibilities. What has Gabriel done with his brother’s old room? His first thought... God his first thought is that Gabriel’s turned it into some sort of ‘play’ room. While he’s not exactly adverse to such things… The thought of having to hide that from curious guests. And how exactly did he get so sweaty? Was he stringing up a goddamn sex swing? Sam swallows. That idea… Uh… he’s actually really not adverse to that idea either. He feels his heartbeat pick up again.</p><p>Gabriel huffs out an impatient breath, startling him from his thoughts.</p><p>“Ground control to Major Tom. Hello? Can’t exactly appreciate and applaud my good work if you don’t open those puppy dog peepers.”</p><p>Sam laughs, but tentatively, he blinks open his eyes. </p><p>Wow. This is… He really wasn’t expecting this. He takes a couple more steps into the room and spins around. Gabriel really did this? For him? He’d thought Gabriel would insist they make the room into an entertainment center, or they’d take the boring route and make up a spare bedroom with a pull out couch. Not that they really need it. Most of their friends and family are too close and those that aren’t don’t really visit. The whole ‘play’ room wouldn’t have been an enormous surprise. But this. This is. He never dreamed that Gabriel would…</p><p>“You built me a studio?” His voice comes out sounding a little more squeaky and wavers a lot more than he’d like.</p><p>Gabriel makes a little humming noise and steps up by his side.</p><p>“Well technically Jo helped. But clearly I did all the heavy lifting.” He sweeps his hand dramatically down his own body before skipping over to the desk and knocking on the hard surface. “Built all my own furnishings.” He smirks and dashes across to the shelves. Pouts. “Ok Joster built those, but… You like it?”</p><p>Sam swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. He nods his head, a smile spreading across his face as Gabriel beams at him before bounding around the room. Pointing out his easel, adorned with a scribbled heart post-it. The fittings on the wall at various heights, which will let him hang any larger pieces there to work on them. All his materials… somewhat haphazardly stacked on the shelves. He grabs what looks like a makeshift ground sheet and attempts to shake it out… It flops uncerimoniously in a heap. He shrugs his shoulders and bends down to spread it out.</p><p>This is all… It’s kind of overwhelming. Sam runs his hands back through his hair, eyes scanning the room. It somehow doesn’t seem quite right that he has this room all to himself. This is their apartment. Gabriel’s not just a guest. But the only thing in this room that belongs to him is his easy chair, which Gabriel’s pushed into a corner.</p><p>“…Of course I thought about ripping up the carpet but ah… wasn’t sure the ol landlord would be down with that… so uh. Guess this’ll have to do.” </p><p>As Sam’s eyes land back on him, he staggers to his feet and sweeps an arm over the spread ground sheet.</p><p>“It’s… It’s perfect but…” Gabriel’s brow furrows, the corners of his lips turning downwards. Sam closes the distance between them, wraping one arm around Gabriel’s middle and reaching up to brush away the hair that’s fallen across his forehead. “It is perfect Gabe. I love it. Just… what about you?”</p><p>Gabriel’s eyebrows raise. “What about me Samsquatch?”</p><p>Sam smiles, bends down to press a brief kiss to Gabriel’s brow before drawing back, letting his hand wander into the damp curls at the back of Gabriel’s neck. “Just… You did all this for me but… what’s in here for you?”</p><p>Gabriel makes a face at him. “Everything.” He rolls his eyes as Sam furrows his brow in confusion. “Come on Sam, you know how much I love to watch you work. I can chill out over there,” he gestures with one thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the easy chair. “Get all worked up watching you work up a sweat. All that creative genius,” he growls in the back of his throat, “you got no idea what a turn on it is.”</p><p>Sam can’t help but laugh, though he feels his cheeks begin to flush. Gabriel holds up an index finger. “And then my Samilicious, then you spread me open and fuck my brains out. Or…” He sweeps a hand towards the desk. “Or bend me over that there desk and-“</p><p>Sam barks out a loud laugh. “You know I thought you’d made us some sort of sex room. Apparently I wasn’t so far off the mark.”</p><p>Gabriel raises both eyebrows and gives him a look. “I can multitask.”</p><p>Sam grins at him, bending down to draw him into a kiss. Gabriel groans and raises up onto the balls of his feet, deepening the kiss. They stay like that for long moments, only drawing back when they’re both a little breathless. </p><p>“Thank you,” Sam murmurs, pressing one more kiss to Gabriel’s brow. </p><p>He sighs happily, just letting his hands card through Gabriel’s hair as his eyes run over the supplies stacked on the shelf behind. He’s definitely going to have his work cut out sorting it all out. He snorts out a small laugh as his eyes land on something that doesn’t quite belong. Gabriel raises a quizzical eyebrow, craning his neck to see what caught Sam’s eye. Sam reaches over and grabs the packaging, bringing it into Gabriel’s field of vision. </p><p>“Uh, doesn’t this belong in the bedroom.”</p><p>Gabriel blinks at the body paints in Sam’s hand before making an exaggerated offended face. He pulls away, and Sam has to quickly untangle his fingers from Gabriel’s messy curls before he ends up accidentally pulling out a clump, watching with raised eyebrows as Gabriel strides purposefully over to the desk. He points at the photo pinned above the surface. Eyebrows still raised, Sam makes his way over until he can see… <em>Ah</em>.</p><p>“Tell me that’s not art!” </p><p>Sam flushes and dips his head, eyes darting away from the image of Gabriel, nude, hard and covered in Sam’s brushstrokes, but not before he takes note of the post-it, proclaiming the image to be, <em>A <strike>little</strike> huge inspiration</em>. Wow. Well it… it certainly is… Sam frowns, eyes drifting down to the paints in his hand. <em>Maybe</em>… But all thoughts disappear as Gabriel is suddenly right there in front of him, one hand reaching up to pull Sam roughly down into a searing kiss, the other going for the buttons on the front of Sam’s shirt. Sam groans, dropping the packet on the desk, his own hands finding Gabriel’s hair and reaching inside his open plackard, fingertips running gently over still damp skin. There’s a smattering of sparse chest hair here, over skin that feels impossibly smooth. As Gabriel’s tongue runs over his lower lip, Sam reaches further to one side, finding a little more hair here and one perfect pert nipple. Gabriel pulls back from his mouth, making little <em>ah ah ah</em> noises in the back of his throat as Sam circles his nipple with thumb and forefinger before pinching and gently tugging on that little nub of flesh.</p><p>“Holy shit fuck Sam!” Gabriel yells. Sam smiles down at him, rubbing soothing circles over the flesh. “Don… don’t stop,” Gabriel whines. </p><p>But then he’s biting his lip and pulling back himself. Sam watches as Gabriel draws the sweat damp fabric off over his head. That… that is admittedly better. Now Sam can see Gabriel’s beautifully flushed chest in all it’s naked glory, nipples standing proud from strong pectoral muscles, those subtle dips between his abdominals and just there, at the waistband of his jeans, that little touch of softness that Sam loves so much. He looks good. So damn good. The winter excess is completely gone, the last of it melting away with the fever and the stress of the last couple of weeks. Gabriel was looking a little pallid then, but now his skin has regained it’s subtle healthy glow. He looks vital and full of life, his eyes bright, if a little hazy with lust right now. </p><p>Sam watches, transfixed as Gabriel unbuttons his jeans, drawing the fabric slowly over his hips, before stepping out of the pooled material. And then he’s naked, gloriously naked and so goddamn beautiful. He leans forward. Sam thinks Gabriel means to undress him and quickly fumbles his remaining buttons himself, but Gabriel instead picks up the package, wiggling it in Sam’s directly.</p><p>“Time to get creative?” He says, eyebrows dancing across his sweaty forehead.</p><p>Sam swallows, arousal building in his already aching groin. </p><p>“Fuck yes,” he replies, not caring how desperate and breathless he sounds, just caring about the promise held in Gabriel’s gaze. </p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>He’s in Sam’s lap. No that’s not quite right. Sam’s in him. Both. Both of those things are true. He can’t exactly think very clearly, impaled as he is on Sam’s giant cock. <em>Fuuuuuuck</em>. Feels so good. He arches his back, leaning his neck back on one broad shoulder, stretching his arm back too, grabbing hold of Sam’s hair. Riding that perfect pleasure. Sam makes little grunting noises into his ear, the fingers of one hand painting absent patterns into his skin. Ah feels so...</p><p>“<em>JESUS FUCK</em> Sam-” </p><p>He breaks off into a string of nonsense as Sam repositions his thigh, tilting his whole body a little sideways as he thrusts up. Deep. <em>Holy fuck n hells</em>. Impossibly deeper. He’s not gonna last. Not gonna last long at all like this. And Sam hasn’t even touched his dick yet. Gabriel insisted on that. Wanted to draw it out as long as possible. The rest of his body may be painted in rainbow smears, but his cock is merely the usual rosy pink. Not that he can see it right now. Right now he has an ever shifting view of the ceiling, inbetween seeing stars as Sam lights up his pleasure centers again and again.</p><p>“Cock ring… fuck holy… shit cock ring.” He mutters. </p><p>Sam pauses. Goddamn freezes. Buried balls deep inside Gabriel’s body, cock throbbing against his inner walls.</p><p>“W-what?” Sam stutters, taking in a ragged breath.</p><p>Gabriel makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. Ok he whines. Long and loud. Because hells. He was close. So damn close. But at least Sam’s done one thing for him. No cock ring required. The pause has prevented him from sailing head long over that ledge. He takes in a few deep breaths. Sam just stays there. Holding on to his thigh, fingers poised over his left nipple. Gabriel pushes his chest forward a little, letting the peaked flesh rub against Sams fingertips as he turns his head sideways to breathe a few more breaths into Sam’s neck, arm dropping to his side. Sam shivers, that nipple hovering hand coming up to stroke over the side of his neck, right up and over his cheekbone. Fuck. That feels good too. </p><p>“Gabe?”</p><p>Gabriel takes in a long breath through his nose, scenting Sam’s skin at the same time. He smells good. So damn good. Gabriel’s tempted to bury his nose further into Sam’s neck and inhale another lungful, but words… must find his words.</p><p>He pulls away from that comforting nook and still panting away, breathes out, “Mmm nothin’. Jus’… m’ close.”</p><p>Wow that was eloquent. Sam seems to get it anyway, hand trailing down his neck, splaying over his chest and down. <em>Ahhhhh ahhh fuck</em>. He shudders uncontrollably, craning his neck down to watch as Sam’s paint smeared hand drifts ever lower. Wow, he’s sweating so much it’s practically dripping off him. Not striking impasto anymore, but delicate watercolor passages. But… <em>Oh… oh oh oh. Wait no</em>. Gabriel whacks Sam’s hand before it can wrap around his aching erection.</p><p>“Jesus Gabe,” Sam hisses, hand disappearing momentarily from view. Oh there, he’s rubbing it on his own thigh. Must have kind of whacked it a little too hard. “What the hell was that for?”</p><p>“S-sorry Samcakes. Ah… I just. Nggh. Can you. <em>Yes fuck</em>.” Gabriel sighs in relief as Sam starts to rock gently up into him. “Just. We need more… more paint.” </p><p>Sam makes what Gabriel can only presume is an incredulous sound, but he stays otherwise silent, just keeps rocking up into him as he reaches for the blue tube. He thinks about just emptying the whole thing out over his own dick, but no, he kind of wants Sam to slather it on him. He makes a little noise, waving the tube back in Sam’s face. Sam grunts at him. Words are beyond them both it seems. They’ve resorted to communicating in Caveman. But mercifully Sam gets it, extending the hand that’s not currently occupied with spreading his thigh way out to the side. Gabriel squirts a liberal helping into Sam’s palm. Ok the whole tube, he squirts the whole tube. He’s pretty sure Sam just threw a bitchface at the back of his head, but he really can’t see. After a beat, the hand is drifting down again. Gabriel watches, biting his lip. </p><p>But then he’s distracted. Weirdly distracted by the abstract patterns smeared across the ground sheet. He tilts his head to the side. <em>Huh</em>. They almost look… oddly lyrical. They’ve changed postions so many times and the patterns smeared there have strangely captured some of those frantic motions. Long fingers begin to wrap around-</p><p>“Wait!”</p><p>Sam grunts again. There’s a sassy edge to it though. Definitely a sassy edge. <em>Hmmghh hotsauce, really hitting all the buttons tonight, and not just those deep inside.</em></p><p>“Want you to…” He leans back against Sam’s chest. Oh a little hard there. Just as well he’s pitched to the side or he may have just headbutted Sam again. “Ah… paint… with me,” he breathes out.</p><p>There’s a heavy breath huffed out over his neck, makes him shiver all over. “What.” Thrust. “Do.” Thrust. “You think.” <em>Oh oh hells Sam fuck.</em> “I’ve been.” <em>Crap.</em> “Doing?” <em>Guhhh</em>.</p><p>Oh fuck, how does he…? <em>Nnnghh</em>. He leans forward abruptly, pulling his thigh from Sam’s grasp, causing Sam to slip halfway out of his body. He grabs hold of Sam’s hand, pulling him over, a sort of strangled yelp escaping from between his lips as he tumbles over Gabriel’s back. <em>Did not… did not think that one through… </em>Gabriel starts to collapse under Sam’s weight, but he braces himself on one arm, splays his knees and halts his motion before he sprawls completely. The strain is intense for one horrifically painful moment. And not just on his arm. Sam’s dick is almost all the way out, but the head is pulling hard at his rim. But then Sam finds his equilibrium, adjusts his limbs, holds himself up over Gabriel’s back as one hand drifts down to his hip.</p><p>“What the… fuck?” Sam gasps after a beat, sliding halfway back inside.</p><p>Gabriel huffs out an annoyed breath. Ok so maybe that didn’t work so well, but yeesh, that hurt Gabriel way more than it hurt Sam. He grabs hold of the hand at his hip - great, half the paint’s now smeared all over his hipbone - and brings it to his dick. Sam finally gets with the program, wrapping his fingers around him. Ah that’s… No. Nope. Not what he meant. As good as that… <em>Ah so good…</em> Not… Blinking sweat from his eyes, he wraps his own palm halfway around Sam’s enormous hand, dragging dick and hand down until the leaking tip of his cock finally meets the surface of the ground sheet.</p><p>“Paint… <em>with</em>… me,” he grits out between ragged breaths, circling his hips a little as he speaks, craning his neck to watch as he leaves smears of blue tinged precome on the material beneath him. </p><p><em>Ahhh</em>. Good. But most of the paint’s still on Sam’s hand. Though judging by the obscenties being muttered into his skin, he thinks that Sam’s finally, <em>finally</em> gotten the message and… <em>Hells yeah</em>. That rather enthusiastic thrust inside him, would seem to suggest that he’s rather turned on by the idea. Gabriel lets go, dropping onto his forearms with relief. That… that is much more comfortable. Except his neck. His neck is kind of painfully straining here, blood… at least the blood that’s not pumping it’s way to his dick… rushing instead to his head. He’s pretty sure his face is bright red. But he has to… has to see this, has to watch as Sam actually… <em>oh fuck and hells shit</em>… actually paints with his dick. </p><p>Sam draws almost all of the way out of his body, making Gabriel whimper, but then he’s swiping all that paint over the head of Gabriel’s cock, mixing it with a liberal glob of precome and… and slamming back inside as he pulls Gabriel’s dick down to the surface below them, partly letting their bodies do the work for him, but nudging, guiding a little, making a furious, but strangely elegant mark instead of just a smudge. </p><p>It’s the most exquisite ecstasy... watching that, feeling that. Pleasure centres lighting up like fireworks on the 4th of July, as Sam thrusts, as he strokes Gabriel in just the right way, as the sensitive head of his cock is drawn over the soft cotton beneath them, leaving beautiful arcs and stuttering strokes. <em>Great… great mark making there Kiddo</em>, Gabriel thinks deliriously. Because there’s really… <em>fuck God oh God</em>… there’s really some gorgeous passages of paint there… No not paint… <em>Com-aint</em>. He chuckles to himself. Body shaking, dick leaving a somewhat drunken looking, weaving trail. <em>Ah oops</em>. He tilts his head to the side a little. Actually, actually that… <em>Ah God Sam fuck shit</em>… kind of… what was he thinking about again? </p><p>It’s getting harder to think. Harder definitely… Sam thrusts deep, hits just right. It’s perfect, so goddamn perfect... And he can’t, he can’t hold back any longer. He yells out a warning as he feels his muscles tensing, the pressure building, balls drawing up. He’s vaguely aware of Sam whispering sweet nothings into his ear, of him holding his cock just so, not against the material anymore, but hovering above, in just the right plac-</p><p>He’s shaking, gasping, muscles clenching, cock pulsing messily, pleasure coursing through him in a tidal wave so intense he feels like he’s being swept away. But Sam has him, anchors him, holds him through it all, thrusting deep inside him; then barely able to keep them afloat, he shudders apart too.</p><p>He’s only just keeping a slippery grip on consciousness, limbs feeling like so much jelly. He wobbles precariously over their masterpiece. But Sam has him now too, gently rolling them to the side, cock slipping from Gabriel’s body as he shuffles over to give Gabriel space to sprawl. And sprawl he does. That was… That was really… His breath is rasping in and out of his throat, his arms are aching, his ass… all sorts of perfectly sore. But that… that was really somethin…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah so... ah... I have no excuses, none at all. Hope you're all doing well, or as well as can be. Thanks for reading my weird, crazy, smutty world x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the blissful afterglow of their lovemaking, Sam gets a crazy idea.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little bonus fluff and silliness for the holidays...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SAM</p><p>Sam stares up at the ceiling, listening to their ragged breaths. Waiting for his heart to stop feeling like it’s competing for a world record.</p><p>“That… that was…” He finally stutters out, finding himself wholly unable to complete the sentence.</p><p>“That… was art.”</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh. “Clearly… my best… work.”</p><p>“Mmm hmm… think you just entered your… white and sticky period.”</p><p>Sam scrunches his face up, but he can’t help letting out the laughter that bubbles up from the pit of his belly.</p><p>He levers himself up on his elbow and leans over Gabriel, running an assessing gaze over the piece, while utterly failing to keep the corners of his lips from twitching furiously.</p><p>“I don’t know, it’s kind of… blue.”</p><p>“Yeesh, ok Picasso…” Gabriel cranes his neck and peers at the groundsheet, making a considering face before flopping back down again… “your off-white-almost-cyan period.”</p><p>“Uh no cyan’s a little greener, that’s really more a light cerulean. And it’s definitely more Pollock than Picasso.”</p><p>Gabriel stares at him for one moment, before raising one eyebrow. “Are we really arguing the finer points of your come-art?” </p><p>Sam fails to keep the huge grin from spreading across his lips as he nods his head a fraction, before furrowing his brow. “Shouldn’t it be ‘our’ come-art? I’d definitely say it was a collaborative effort.” </p><p>Gabriel makes a face at him that’s somehow half way between fond and irritated exhasperation. Sam smiles down at him, running his thumb over one paint smeared cheekbone. Gabriel’s utterly, utterly caked in the stuff. As Sam runs his eyes over Gabriel’s sprawled form, he can see some deliberate marks, but mostly… it’s almost like Gabriel’s skin has become a roadmap of Sam’s passion, the paint thick and overlapping in all of Sam’s favorite places… his cheekbones, neck… eyebrows… Sam had no idea he kept on touching Gabriel’s ever mobile, ever expressive eyebrows, but apparently he did, because there’s the evidence right there. His dimples…wow ok, lots of paint caught in those little dips… chin… lower lip… Though Gabriel’s clearly been biting it and running his tongue over it, as there’s little more than an impression left. Hair… Well it rather looks like Gabriel’s made a very drunken and unsuccessful attempt at giving himself a punk do/dye job. Nipples… There’s a term in art for overworking an area… muddy. Gabriel’s nipples look especially muddy, the paint there so thoroughly mixed together that the vibrant tones have become a sludgy grey-brown. </p><p>Lower… The thin sheen of sweat has caused some rather interesting glazing effects, but Sam can still see the desperate grasping marks on his thighs, hipbones… the splayed hand print across his belly… His spent dick… Gabriel emptied so much blue paint onto Sam’s hand that despite a fair amount making it onto their make-shift canvas and his right hip, there’s still a hell of a lot here, plastering his pubic hair to his groin, caught in the ridges… his entire cock no longer that beautiful flushed pink hue, but rather… blue. Sam suspects that Gabriel may be mildy tinged that color for the next week or more. It’s unlikely that they’ll get it all off without scrubbing too hard in delicate places. Why on Earth Gabriel thought it was a good idea to use the whole tube...</p><p>“Like what you see?” Gabriel’s voice sounds low and raspy and like he’s attempting a further seduction. Sam looks up at his face. Yes those rainbrow brows are most definitely wiggling at him, nostrils flaring, eyes roaming over Sam’s naked chest.</p><p>Sam smiles but he shakes his head. After that, he really can’t muster the energy for round 2, no matter how adorably ridiculous Gabriel looks right now. </p><p>“You know I do,” he hurriedly says, leaning forward to press a soft kiss between Gabriel’s furrowing brows, “but I really think we need to get you cleaned up… all this mess cleaned up.”</p><p>“Mess?” Gabriel makes an exaggerated noise of mortal offense. “I thought we agreed it was your best work my Samilicious. There’s no way we’re destroying that!”</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh. “You’re not seriously suggesting we actually keep-”</p><p>“Why the Hells not? It’s a veritable Fuckster-piece.”</p><p>“Gabe.” Sam purses his lips, finding it incredibly hard not descend into a fit of uncontrollable laughter at Gabriel’s mock earnest face. He takes in a breath, looks away, eyes catching on the patterns, painted, smeared, imprinted and splattered across the fabric. He’s pretty sure that’s Gabriel’s left butt cheek right there. Ok that’s not helping. His eyes travel back to Gabriel, but not before he takes in the smeared arc at Gabriel’s side, where he’s drawn his arm up by his head. It almost looks like a wing…</p><p>“Just think how much this could be worth when you take the art world by storm. Millions Sam! Millions! We could buy a… boat or… a private jet… or or hmm how about a big ass Mansion on some tropical island… Private beach… Skinning dipping on our private tropical beach Sam… Fucking under the stars. Just think about it!”</p><p>The laughter really does come at that, bubbling up from his belly, his whole body shaking with it. It feels good. So damn good. After everything… After all they’ve been through the last two weeks, it feels like… feels like coming home. Gabriel grumbles and makes a face at him, but the dimples soon resurface, a wide smile breaking out over his features, lighting up his whole face. When the laughter has finally subsided, Sam dips his head and kisses Gabriel gently on those beautiful thin lips. </p><p>“Sand in all sorts of uncomfortable places…” Sam says after a beat, raising his eyebrows. “No one’s gonna buy a come and paint splattered ground sheet Gabe. I’m pretty sure you’ve landed yourself a life with a chronically broke struggling artist. You might want to ah… readjust your expectations.”</p><p>Gabriel makes a little tutting noise in the back of his throat. He levers himself up on his elbows, golden gaze following Sam as he climbs to his feet, expression suddenly serious. </p><p>“You know I don’t need any of that... Kiddo, I think you got all sorts of incredible things ahead of you. But…” He sighs and purses his lips. “If those boneheads at the top are too stupid to see your genius? If all we got is this,” he gestures around the room, “threadbare clothes and ramen until our dying days... sign me right the hell up. Because what we got, what we’ve really got... Hells, that’s worth more than all the cheesy ass Rolex watches and penthouse suites in the world. All I need is you Sam…”</p><p>Sam bites his lip, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. He wants to give Gabriel the world. He knows how much Gabriel revels in a little luxury. He wants to give him expensive pastries every morning for breakfast, wants to take him somewhere special where they can have the most amazing vacation of their lives… the very first proper vacation of their lives. He wants to spoil him, to give him all the comforts he so desperately deserves. But… Sam knows that this life he has chosen… it’s going to be tough. Far more artists struggle all their lives to make ends meet, than actually make a decent living, let alone one that could afford them that sort of luxury. Sometimes it’s down to luck and chance as much as it’s down to hard work and talent. It’s likely that they’ll always live just above the breadline or at least not all that comfortably. But Sam’s a pragmatist, he’s not so proud and stubborn that he won’t take work that’s maybe not what he always dreamed of. And this graduate place… Maybe it will open up some opportunities for tutoring work, maybe afford them a little stability if nothing else.</p><p>Gabriel whistles long and low suddenly, startling Sam out of his quiet reverie. “…You and your giant Moose dick of course.”</p><p>Sam barks out a loud laugh, shaking his head and extending a hand down to Gabriel. But Gabriel just makes a face at him before flopping back down. “Come on Sam. If you’re not gonna admit the artistic goldmine come retirement plan we’ve got here, you’ve at least gotta document it.”</p><p>The corners of Sam’s lips twitch upwards. His eyes travel over the tableau in front of him. He guesses that Gabriel is kind of right. It is oddly beautiful. And although it’s hardly portfolio material, he finds that he does want to keep a record of it, preserve the product of this whole crazy, erotic experience. He almost opens his mouth to tell Gabriel that he can’t very well document it with Gabriel sprawled as he is across their “canvas,” but before he can utter the words, he realises how very wrong that would be. Because Gabriel isn’t obscuring the artwork, he’s every bit a part of it.</p><p>He quickly makes his way over to the hastily abandoned bundle of his clothing by the desk and grabs his cellphone from his jeans pocket, Gabriel watching him all the time. He doesn’t make any motions to move, but he looks a little uncharacteristically uncertain, like he’s expecting Sam to tell him to shift his ass. Sam smiles instead and takes the first shot. Relaxing into it, Gabriel subtely adjusts his position until he’s slightly more artfully posed as Sam takes shot after shot. Mostly distant shots, but some cropped right in on some section of the material or some part of Gabriel’s body. Despite feeling worn out and thoroughly sated, he finds his own body reacting a little to the intimacy of their impromptu photoshoot and by the time he takes one last close up Gabriel’s beautifully parted lips, he’s more than aroused… as is Gabriel it would seem, bright blue cock curving up towards the handprint adorning his belly. </p><p>Sam just takes a moment to look, letting his eyes draw over Gabriel’s prone form, taking in the beautiful sweeps of color painted across the planes of his skin, taking in the art surrounding him, the art that he’s very much a part of… Wings… Right there either side of him. Not just on one side as Sam had previously thought, but what was once hidden under Sam’s body and only partly smudged by his skin… those upwards arcs of paint look like small, delicate wings, emerging from behind Gabriel’s sprawled body. And his pose… the parted lips, the soft expression, the strength in the arms drawn up over his head… he looks heart achingly beautiful. Despite the slightly ridiculous hand prints and sweaty tangled hair caked in paint. Maybe partly because of that. He’s part of the art and he <em>is</em> that art… And… <em>Wait… That…</em> </p><p>Sam holds his phone up before him, framing the shot, his mind reeling, the images in his mind superimposing themselves over the image in front of him. Could he… could they really? He takes the shot, stares down at the image on his phone.</p><p>“Sam?”</p><p>Sam doesn’t miss the edge of worry in Gabriel’s voice. He instantly looks up from his screen, meeting Gabriel’s concerned gaze with a look that he’s sure appears a little crazed. Definitely a little crazed judging by the expression on Gabriel’s face.</p><p>“I… I think I might have just had a crazy idea.”</p><p>Gabriel stares at him a moment, before levering himself up and raising one eyebrow in Sam’s direction.</p><p>“Are we talkin, convincing your erstwhile bestfriend that he’s living the same Tuesday for the second time running crazy? Or are we talkin, deciding it’s a super plan to open up an interdimensional rift in your bathroom because you ran out of toilet paper crazy?”</p><p>It’s Sam’s turn to stare at Gabriel.</p><p>“Bearing in mind that I’m not actually you,” he runs his hand back through his hair, brow furrowing a little in worry. “Nor… nor am I hallucinating. Gabe… you do remember that was a hallucination right?”</p><p>Gabriel looks mildly confused for a moment and Sam feels the worry build within him, all other thoughts taking a momentary back seat as he runs an assessing gaze over Gabriel’s face. But Gabriel’s lips soon curve upwards, eyes alight with mirth as he throws back his head and chuckles loudly.</p><p>Sam sighs, throwing a half hearted bitchface at Gabriel before pacing over to his clothes.</p><p>“Nevermind,” he mumbles as he reaches down for his shirt, making a face a moment later as he realises just how caked in paint he is himself. He really needs a shower too. He sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face.</p><p>“Hey… Kiddo.” Warm arms wrap around his middle, a pointy nose poking into his spine as a soft kiss is pressed between his shoulderblades. “Don’t leave me hanging. You know I live for crazy ideas. Lay it on me.” </p><p>Sam bites his lip. He stands there for a moment, thinking it through, taking comfort from the warm body somewhat mismatchedly spooned up behind him, hair lightly tickling his skin as Gabriel continues to nuzzle into his upper back. Gabriel may think it’s ridiculous. He may say no. He may laugh his head off, but he’d never make Sam feel like he was wrong for just putting it out there. He turns around in Gabriel’s arms, unable to stop himself from returning the smile directed up at him, unable to stop himself from reaching up to brush an errant purple lock of hair from Gabriel’s forehead.</p><p>And as he bites the bullet, takes that chance and relates his insane idea. He watches as Gabriel goes from wide eyed surprise, to a look of amusement, to something completely different… And he knows. Knows that Gabriel will say yes. That Gabriel will support him. That Gabriel is with him all the way, in every way. And he wonders at just how lucky he got, at just how lucky he is, to have someone in his life who loves him so deeply, who believes in him so completely. And it seems so perfect, that it hardly feels like a crazy idea any more. It just feels right.</p><p>~~~</p><p>ELLEN</p><p>Ellen looks from Gabriel’s wide eyed manically excited face, to Sam’s flushed and apprehensive one. She sighs and looks away, takes a moment, pinching her sinuses in some futile attempt to head off the migraine she can feel coming on. Why is it always these two? These two with their off the wall crazy ideas. As it goes, maybe it’s not the craziest she’s ever heard. She’s worked in an art department for long enough to realise that, but factor in the tension that’s ever present in that class, factor in the bullshit manouvering that’s going on behind the scenes… Well this whole thing feels like a powder keg that’s ready go off, maybe in all their damn faces. </p><p>But… Well, maybe that’s exactly the reason to do it. Why the hell should they bow to all the underhanded biggoted crap? Maybe they should face it, challenge it. Stand with their heads held high and one middle finger extended. Maybe they should.</p><p>She looks up again, ignores Gabriel’s impatient noises, looks closely at Sam’s expression instead. Can the boy handle the shit storm he’s considering taking a piss into? Sam flushes even brighter, but there’s something in his eyes, in the way he’s looking back at her. He’s not turning away, he’s not backing down, instead there’s something like determination in his steady gaze.</p><p>And so Ellen finds herself returning that gaze and slowly nodding her head. </p><p>She purses her lips, keeping her eyes fixed on Sam. “Ok. Ok lets do this.” </p><p>She smiles at the huge grin that breaks across his face. Boy has that kid got a infectious smile. It’s really no wonder at all that Gabriel went off the deep end for him, that he finally let go of all the pain of his past and worked to make it through all the shit he’s been through. To make it work. To hold on to what he’s got with Sam. It could so easily have gone the other way. Ellen’s known Gabriel for long enough to know that. But he stuck around, broke the habit of a lifetime and she knows that Gabriel will do everything to support Sam in this. </p><p>“And boys…” She pauses, waiting for Gabriel’s ecstatic celebrations to die down, making sure she has both their attentions. “That means paperwork.”</p><p>She can’t help the laugh that escapes her at Gabriel’s dramatic protestations, at Sam’s look of fondness, barely concealed beneath an outword appearance of annoyance. If anyone can handle the shit storm that’s likely to descend upon them, it’s these two. Because they’ve got each other’s backs, come what may. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have gotten a good 10+ chapters ahead of this thing so I may occasionally post more frequently where it makes sense, i.e. scenes spanning chapters. The next update will be next weekend though. Hope you all had a good Easter or at least you know scoffed enough chocolate to make Gabriel proud. EDIT: actually come to think of it, the Sam birthday chapters should definitely fall on his actual birthday, so yeah that will be arranged</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So ah here's a cheerful little update for ya...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>Sam startles awake as a styrofoam cup thumps down right in front of his nose. He shoots his brother an almighty bitchface before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.</p><p>“Dude I do not need any more coffee. What the hell? You almost got half of that in my face”</p><p>Dean just raises his eyebrows pointedly. <em>Ok fuck fine</em>. He grabs hold of the cup and takes a small sip, grimacing and looking hurriedly away as Dean’s expression turns worried.</p><p>“When was the last time you went home?”</p><p>Sam sighs, taking another sip of coffee in an attempt to delay having to answer that question. In truth he’s not sure. And the last time, he barely stayed long enough to have a quick shower and collect some fresh clothes. </p><p>“When was the last time you got some decent sleep?”</p><p>Dean doesn’t wait for an invitation, he just pulls out a chair and sits himself down across the table, making another face when Sam doesn’t reply.</p><p>“You need to take better care of yourself Sammy, you look like seven levels of hell.”</p><p>“Wow Dean, thanks. That really makes me feel so much better,” Sam mumbles, forcably avoiding his brother’s gaze.</p><p>“You know Cas, Luke and I are takin shifts. Anything happens we’d call you straight away. Running yourself into the ground isn’t going to change a thing. The Doc says it might take a little time…” Dean pauses, presumably taking a sip of his own crappy coffee. “Is it… Are you having nightmares again?”</p><p>Sam swallows, looks down at his hands. He got the blood out days ago, but sometimes he almost thinks he can still see it there. And when he closes his eyes… when weariness drags him under…</p><p>“I… uh… sometimes…” </p><p>He doesn’t want to tell the truth, the whole truth. That it’s every damn night. That it’s every time he closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to worry Dean. There’s nothing he can do about it.</p><p>Dean makes a little noise of commiseration, then he falls silent, like he expected as much and doesn’t know what the hell to say. What the hell to do.</p><p>Until Gabriel wakes… until there’s any change at all… Sam’s not sure there’s anything anyone <em>can</em> do about it. He’s sure as hell tried. When the bed felt too empty, the scent of Gabriel on the sheets too much to bear, he moved to the sofa. All he got for his efforts was an extra crick in his neck and a bruised hip when he woke screaming and thrashing and tumbling into the coffee table at 2 in the morning. </p><p>In truth he’s kind of given up on trying to sleep at home. He barely wants to go there at all. It feels so empty, so damn empty without Gabriel. He’s used to Gabriel’s presence filling up the room, lighting up every room he walks into. The sofa feels just as empty as the bed, the memories too powerful to ignore. He can’t sit there without missing Gabriel’s head in his lap, or his feet, or his whole body. He remembers desperate hands grasping at his hair, soft kisses pressed to his lips, Gabriel lowering himself into Sam’s lap, naked, gripping him so perfectly, surrounding him so completely. He remembers the time he came home to find Gabriel nude and busily positioning himself with one leg extended on the back of the sofa, in a ludicrously uncomfortable looking stance, because he heard something about the precarious position aiding deeper penetration. He remembers Gabriel falling asleep in his arms as they watched some quiet british drama… Downton Abbey if Sam remembers correctly… then startling awake at the end and pretending he watched the whole thing.</p><p>He remembers that smile. The messy tangled curls. Those ever mobile eyebrows. The eyerolls. The smoldering looks. Every second he spends in that empty apartment, it’s all he can think about. And he aches. A deep ache that never goes away. Every time his eyes land on one of his stolen flannel shirts, draped over some surface or another. Every time he almost trips over one of Gabriel’s abandoned shoes. Every time he sees Gabriel’s strawberries and cream shampoo in the shower and remembers breathing in the scent of it whenever he dipped his nose into Gabriel’s hair. It hurts so goddamn much that he thinks he can scarcely bear a minute more. </p><p>And so he leaves. He takes long walks. He avoids the college, but instead circles the park time and time again. Occasionally he passes someone he knows a little, or who knows Gabriel, and they give him a sympathetic look and he can’t bear that either. Sometimes he finds himself standing staring across the open space at the centre of the park, eyes inevitably drawn to that one spot. Where Gabriel used to like to sprawl. Where he would just flop onto his back and look up through leaves. Where they had that first date. Where Gabriel got so inappropriately frisky that they drew the attention of local law enforcement… And those memories are much too much too.</p><p>And so he ends up back here. Holing himself up in the caffeteria, or in the waiting room or when they let him, by Gabriel’s bed. Watching the rise and fall of Gabriel’s chest, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor. Reassuring himself that Gabriel’s still here. Talking to Gabriel, even though he’s long since run out of things to say. Sitting in silence. Squeezing his hand. Hoping against hope that one day he’ll see that little flicker of recognition, that one day he’ll feel a little squeeze in reponse.</p><p>But it’s been days. Days of nothing. No change. The stats on Gabriel’s chart always say the same thing. Sam knows, he always checks, always hoping for that little indication that there’s been some sort of progress. He’s spent hour after hour researching in the dead of the night. He knows all there is to know about the different scales that are used to assess coma patients. And he knows that despite everyone telling him that it’s still early days… every day that passes, every day that slips by without a single sign of improvement… he knows those odds are dwindling. </p><p>He takes another sip of coffee, hoping that Dean won’t notice how much his hand is shaking. It tastes too bitter on his tongue. He’s exhausted. Maybe he should go home. Or maybe get a little fresh air at the park. But he feels too damn tired to move at all.</p><p>“You uh… you missed the most frickin ridiculous sight of your life earlier.”</p><p>Sam blinks up from his coffee cup. He’d almost forgotten Dean was still here.</p><p>Dean spares him a worried look before leaning forward in his seat and grinning at him. “Seriously dude, I would not believe this shit if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”</p><p>Sam just raises his eyebrows, too weary to make a proper response. </p><p>“Garth man. And I thought Gabriel was weird enough, but damn it. Must be a janitor thing.” He leans back in his chair and lets out a little laugh. “All those lonely nights with only a mop for company? Must be enough to send a guy crazy.”</p><p>Sam makes a face at him. Then he sighs. Well he supposes Dean has a point about Garth. Sam’s known him long enough to see that the guy most definitely dances to the beat of his own drum.</p><p>“Walked in on him and his little friend having some sort of weird ass conversation with Gabriel.”</p><p>Sam frowns. That’s hardly the oddest thing Garth’s ever done. After all, they’ve all been encouraged to talk to Gabriel as much as they can in order to stimulate those neural pathways. And what was with the emphasis on the word “friend”. As far as Sam knows, Garth doesn’t have a partner. When Dean fails to immediately elaborate, no doubt attempting to draw Sam into a conversation, Sam finally relents, curiosity getting the better of him.</p><p>“And…” he prompts raising both eyebrows in his direction.</p><p>Dean grins broadly at him, clearly pleased that he engendered any reponse at all. “Dude, you don’t get it. The ‘friend’, Mr Fizzles, was about yay tall,” Dean motions with his hands merely a foot apart, “with buttons for eyes and had Garth’s hand up it’s ass.”</p><p>Sam can barely muster enough energy for the required response. He merely raises an eyebrow again.</p><p>“A frickin sock puppet Sammy. An honest to God, frickin sock puppet.” Dean laughs and shakes his head. </p><p>“You’re kidding.” Sam wouldn’t put it past his brother to make up some weird ass story just to try and make him smile.</p><p>“I kid you not. Seriously dude. Thought I’d walked into some fucked up version of Sesame Street. A really shitty knock off version with the most freaking annoying voice work you’ve ever heard. Honestly I kept on expecting Gabriel to wake up and give him one of those looks and…” Dean’s voice trails off, his face falling. He swallows, looks away…</p><p>“Yeah.” Sam laughs. It doesn’t sound quite right, even to his own ears. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Uh… maybe that was the point. Annoy him so much that he wakes up because he can’t resist the urge to mock anymore.” He sighs, though a small smile plays on the corners of his lips. “It’s not an  altogether terrible plan. Maybe you should spend more time in there.”</p><p>Dean laughs and shakes his head. “Dude, isn’t it the other way around. I swear your damn boyfriend makes it his mission in life to be as annoying as possible.”</p><p>Sam smiles again. A proper one this time. It feels strange, almost like he forgot how. “Uh I think actually it’s his mission in life to annoy you Dean.”</p><p>Dean snorts out a small laugh. “Well aint I the lucky one.” </p><p>“Yeah…” Sam begins, not knowing exactly what he intends to say. “I just wish… I’d give anything to see him roll his eyes at me again.” Sam winces. Ok that’s not what he expected to come out.</p><p>But instead of mocking him, Dean merely nods his head. “Never thought I’d say this… and I’ll frickin deny it till my dying days so don’t bother tellin him when he wakes up… but I miss his stupid goddamn nicknames.” Dean makes a face at him when he raises his eyebrows. “And his constant freakin inappropriate innuendos. He always…” </p><p>“He always knew how to make us smile.” </p><p>Sam’s sure Dean didn’t miss the way his voice cracked at the end. Christ he really needs some sleep. Maybe it’s time he went home.</p><p>“Knows Sam, <em>knows</em>.” </p><p>Sam looks up at him. Damn it, he slipped into past tense again. He keeps on doing it. Dean’s looking at him with that worried expression again. He leans across the table and places his hand on top of Sam’s. </p><p>“Don’t you go giving up.”</p><p>Sam sighs, resists the urge to pull his hand away. He knows Dean struggles with situations like this, knows how hard he’s trying.</p><p>“I’m not… I just. I guess I’m just tired.” </p><p>Tired of hoping. Tired of waiting. Tried of sleepless nights and restless days. Tired of having his heart broken each and every time he comes in here to the news that there’s no news at all. Though he says none of this, he thinks that Dean reads it anyway.</p><p>“You want me to drive you home?”</p><p>Sam almost says no. It’s hardly a difficult walk and he usually likes to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. But… The thought of facing that empty apartment alone right now?</p><p>Sam lets out a long breath, then he slowly nods his head.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I may have had a request the inclusion of a certain character ;). This will not be his last appearance... Oh and I'm thinking of maybe updating again mid week. Possibly moving to 2 updates a week depending on how writing goes etc. Hopefully see you soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam makes progress on the new addition to his senior project and Gabriel... is Gabriel...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>TWO AND A HALF MONTHS EARLIER</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Gabriel quickens his pace. There’s no need to rush, not really… Ok there is. If he hurries there’s a chance he’ll catch it. Catch an eyeful of that glorious sight. His uber hot boyfriend wearing nothing but his loose jeans, grease smeared undershirt and visor. Wielding power tools. Power tools. Mmm hmm. That is definitely worth the-</p><p>He pauses, eye catching on a poster plastered on the student notice board, right across a swath of other notices. Zachariah’s smarmy face, grinning down at him. And another all too familiar one below it. Yikes. That’s enough to give even the deepest, most peaceful of sleepers a whole bunch of terrifying nightmares. But also… that explains a whole, whole lot. Crappy out of context bible quotes scrawled across LGBT posters… Those ridiculous protest stickers spouting inaccurate stats and displaying a grasp on biology worthy of a kindergarten drop out, appearing on bathroom doors. Gabriel’s spent a whole lot of time defacing those. In fact he’s taken to carrying about a sharpie, pilfered from big broster, at all times, just for such occasions. He doesn’t exactly have time to come up with anything particularly witty… Childish will have to do. Retrieving his sharpie from his jacket pocket, and peering furtively up and down the corridor to make sure the building really has cleared out, he steps up to the poster and makes a few little adjustments. </p><p><em>The Christian Society</em> thus becomes <em>The <b>Not So</b> Christian Society</em>. <em>Join our ranks</em> very simply changes to <em>Join our <b>wanks</b></em>. Hmm what else? He taps the pen on his lower lip. He can’t think of an easy change to Zachy’s name or title so he satisfies himself with merely scoring out <em>President</em> and writing above it, <em>His Grand Douchiness</em>. He peers at the name under the <em>Vice President</em> title. <em>Don Roman</em>. Roman, Roman, where has he heard that name before?... Ah of course! Emperor Palpatine himself. Dick Roman. Former multinational CEO, turned politician. Enormous dick bag. Gabriel would not be surprised in the slightest if the smarmy asshole who fleeced him on his guitar and refused to rent them the swanky apartment, just so happened to have his Imperial Wankerness as his dearest daddy. Damn it, but now he sees it. The smile’s just the same. It makes perfect sense. </p><p>Hmm. The name sadly doesn’t lend itself to any humorous additions. Pity he wasn’t named after dad, because that would have had a whole lot of potential. Gabriel makes a face. He doesn’t have time. Sam will be finished soon and he is not going to pass up that spectacular view just for the sake of showing off his rapier wit. Juvenile it is. He scores out <em>President</em> and writes <em>Ass licker</em> in it’s place. He’s just about to replace the cap, when a moment of pure whimsy inspires him to go one further. With a little flourish here and a little swipe of the pen there… He stands back to admire his work, letting out a little chuckle as he takes in those awful smiling faces, now beautifully adored with matching porn tashes. Satisfied, he replaces the sharpie and hurries on his way.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam carefully places the soldering iron on the heat proof mat, raises his visor and steps back from his work. He smiles. It works, it really works. There’s still a hell of a lot to do of course, but the bare bones are there. Working through the spring break has definitely paid off, even if it was a little hard on them both. They still took time of course, where they could find it. Whenever Sam was working here instead of at home on the panel, they spent many a night curled under the snuggle blanket on the roof, sharing food, talking about their respective days and looking up at the stars. Maybe there was a little more too. Sam feels his cheeks flush at the thought.  </p><p>A long low whistle interrupts his reverie. He spins around, smile broadening at the sight of his boyfriend, leaning casually against the doorjam, arms crossed over his chest. </p><p>“Holy cats Samsquatch, that is all sorts of glorious.” </p><p>Sam watches as Gabriel pushes off the doorjam and saunters into the room.</p><p>“Ah thanks. There’s still a hell of a lot to do, but I think it’s coming along.”</p><p>“I was not talkin about the art.” </p><p>Sam laughs and shakes his head as Gabriel approaches him slowly, making a show of running his eyes up and down Sam’s body, growling low in his throat as he closes the distance between them.</p><p>“No, what am I <em>talking</em> about, this is <em>definitely</em> a work of art.” Sam squirms, a loud barking laugh escaping from between his lips as Gabriel runs his fingertips from Sam’s waistband up over his ribs, the motion pulling up his undershirt. “Mmm hmm, I’d go as far as sayin this is a masterpiece.”</p><p>Sam grabs hold of Gabriel’s wondering hands, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Gabriel’s pouted lips. This isn’t the life drawing room. They really can’t do this sort of thing here. There are goddamn security cameras. </p><p>“What do you think?” Sam asks, gently tugging Gabriel’s arm, bringing him around to view the piece in an attempt to derail his ardor. There’ll be time for that later. Gabriel’s not working tonight for once and Sam plans to finish up a little earlier now that he’s made good headway.</p><p>Gabriel makes a sounds of complaint, but then he whistles again, circling around the structure slowly, making lots of appreciative sounds before sidling up to Sam and giving him that look. That look that never fails to send Sam’s heart racing, that never fails to send his stomach flip flopping. That look of… desire yes, but more than that… awe… like Sam’s somehow, incredibly, the most amazing being Gabriel has ever encountered. Sam bites his lip, flushing furiously. There was a time when he would have looked away, the intensity of that gaze a little too much to take, but now he doesn’t. He holds that gaze, hoping to somehow convey the notion that the feeling’s most definitely mutual.</p><p>Gabriel draws his lower lip into his mouth, finally breaking eye contact, gaze shifting back to the piece. “Kiddo, that’s…” he trails off, whistling long and low, like he can’t quite find the words. </p><p>Sam can’t help the grin that spreads across his features. He dips his head, hands going up to brush through his hair and instead dislodging the visor. It tumbles towards the ground and he fumbles to catch it. Gabriel rocks back on his heels, chuckling loudly, but at Sam’s face, he takes the visor from Sam’s gloved hands and places it on the work bench. </p><p>Sam sighs, sheds his gloves and steps up to examine his work again. “It’s just the underlying structure. But… you think it’ll work for you?” he asks after a beat.</p><p>Gabriel makes a muffled noise, Sam frowns and turns around, eyes widening as he takes in the sight of Gabriel, pulling his shirt off over his head, jeans already unbuttoned, pubic hair escaping from the opening. As Sam watches incredulous, Gabriel flings the shirt to the side and starts to draw his jeans down over his hips. </p><p>“<em>Jesus Gabe</em>,” Sam hisses as he quickly closes the distance between them, eyes darting over his shoulder as he positions his body between Gabriel and the security camera in the corner. “What the hell are you doing?”</p><p>His raised eyebrows are met with a half baffled, half… mocking (?) expression. But Gabriel lets go of the material, flinging his arms in the air. Which… Christ that doesn’t help. His jeans are halfway down his ass, groin mostly exposed. </p><p>“Hello? You asked if it would work for me. Can’t exactly tell you that if I don’t try it out. Can I?”</p><p>Sam resists the urge to rub his hand over his face, instead grabbing hold of Gabriel’s jeans and pulling them back up, making sure to tuck him in carefully before fastening the opening. Gabriel starts to roll his eyes, but he halts the motion abruptly, a soft groan escaping from between parted lips at the simple touch. It takes a hell of a lot of will to not just say what the hell and unfasten them again with Gabriel looking at him like that, irritation and desire warring with each other in his half lidded gaze. <em>Christ</em>. Sam bites his lip, he swallows and looks down at Gabriel’s upturned face, one hand staying at his hip, the other drifting up to Gabriel’s jaw almost of it’s own accord. <em>Shit</em>. He drops his hands, taking a step backwards, willing his half hard dick to get with the program. They cannot <em>do</em> this here.</p><p>He sighs deeply, trying his best to ignore Gabriel’s flaring nostrils and heated gaze, the outline of his desire standing out clearly against the fabric of his jeans.</p><p>“Ah, just… just keep the jeans on. We ah…” Oh fuck, why can’t he speak? They’ve been together for almost half a year and Gabriel still does this to him. He looks away, turns his attention back to the large, imposing structure of metal before him, swallows. “We just need to see if it ah… fits.” </p><p>That’s not quite the right word. Gabriel won’t wear this. The weight would be far too much, even to stand for a short time, but it still needs to sit right and reasonably comfortably against his skin. Sam supposes that losing the shirt does make sense. Gabriel makes a little whining noise in the back of his throat. Steeling himself, Sam turns to face him. He dips his head to press a quick kiss to Gabriel’s lips, a promise of <em>later</em> whispered against his skin, brushed delicately across his cheekbone before Sam pulls back.</p><p>There’s a little glare, but Gabriel’s features soften as Sam gives him a small smile. And then he’s dropping down to the ground, shifting himself into position. It takes a moment, Gabriel arranging and then rearranging his limbs to find a comfortable pose. Sam takes in a sharp breath as Gabriel settles. He steps around the side, checking that the base is sitting just right. He’ll line this piece in felt to make it more comfortable, but… Christ that’s perfect. All that time spent taking a cast of Gabriel’s shoulder blades… those long sensual moments that almost sent them both into a highly inapproriate situation in the 3D media workshop… definitely worth the effort. Because the structure’s sitting just right. And if Sam half closes his eyes, he can almost see it, almost see the finished product. It will take hours of painstaking work, even aided with his laptop and the department’s laser cutting machine. But… </p><p>He steps back. Gabriel doesn’t look at him, eyes instead staring across some imagined expanse, lips parted, a few strands of hair falling softly across his forehead. He looks… God. Sam’s the one to let out an involuntary groan now, heat pooling rapidly in his groin.</p><p>“Home,” he blurts out, voice sounding a little too strangled and desperate. </p><p>Gabriel blinks up at him for a moment, but then his lips curve upwards, his eyebrows dancing across his forehead. Sam swallows. Christ that looks just as… <em>Fuck</em>. He grabs hold of Gabriel’s shirt and throws it in his direction, carefully avoiding actually looking at him again, because if he does that… <em>Right shit</em>. He fumbles for his own shirt, hastily pulling it on, not caring that he just did up half the buttons wrong. Because he can’t wait. There’s no time. They need to get home. Now.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>It’s desperate. Desperate and needy. Sam’s hands are all over him, tongue down his throat. And Gabriel thought <em>he</em> was the uber horny one. Musta been the wings. Those huge, glorious wings, folded in and curving around him. Even without the feathers… Words escaped him. He didn’t know how to tell Sam just how incredible… Later. Later he’ll wax lyrical on how much of genius Sam is. Now, now he’ll just enjoy these long artist fingers, stripping him of his clothing, teasing… <em>fuck Sam fuck</em>… one particularly perky nipple <em>ahhhhhhhhh</em>. Oh those wings. If he knew they would get Sam this hot he would have- <em>Wait!</em></p><p>He pulls back, to muttered complaints. Ooh that is one helluva bitchface. Honestly, if he doesn’t look away, he’ll say screw the incredible idea he just had and just screw. But no. No. It’s a damn fine idea. Sam’s now giving him an incredulous look. Ok ignore that too. He just needs to rummage in this here cupboard… A whole slew of his belongings tumble to the ground. He has to skip out of the way to avoid a mild bludgeoning. Maybe he should have taken a little more time to arrange and stack things carefully when he moved in. But… well… that can most definitely be taken care of later too. For now, what he really needs is… <em>Ah-ha</em>. As he turns around and waves his burdens in Sam’s direction, the vociferous complaints and groaned <em>jesus Gabe</em> die on his tongue, the bitchface swifly turning into something a little… no a <em>lot</em> more heated. </p><p>Gabriel barely has time to wiggle his eyebrows before 6 ft 4 of horny uber hot, flannel clad manliness descends upon him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah smexy times ahead... Like seriously smutty smut. I will be posting 2 chapters at once this weekend... Probably Friday.... I don't know what's with all the.... ..... ...... What? .... Ah who knows. See you then.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I can't write summaries...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Smut smut smutty smut smut. But with feelings. See the tags for any personal squicks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>GABRIEL</p><p>Gabriel takes in a breath, muscles tensing and untensing with anticipation. Sam’s drawn the fabric way up his thighs, just short of his dick, but now he’s just stopped right there. Staring. Oh for the love of… Gabriel cranes his neck, raises one eyebrow, spreads his legs a little in invitation… or rather a not so subtle hint. But Sam isn’t looking at him. Sam’s looking a little to the left at… <em>Ah that</em>. He forgot about that. Probably should have tried to clean it up instead of just shoving the wings in his closet when he got home that night.</p><p>“Uh Gabe… Why have you got…? We didn’t… I mean my memory’s a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure I’d remember… that.”</p><p>Gabriel draws his lower lip into his mouth… How to… Ah hells, it’s not as if Sam doesn’t know him… Doesn’t know exactly who he is. He’s long since given up on filtering this sort of thing out. “Hallowe’en night, in the staff restrooms... Hmm let’s just say I was a little worked up. All that… with the…” He makes a few gestures in the air. Sam’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing, no doubt at the memories conjured up. No doubt thinking about Gabriel leaning over that table right in front of him, toga riding all the way up. “Let’s just say it got a little… explosive.”</p><p>“You masturbated… in the staff restrooms?” </p><p>Gabriel can’t decide if Sam’s expression is hilarious or hot. Both. Definitely both. </p><p>“Mmm maybe… Ok yes. Yes I did.” He quirks an eyebrow at Sam, who looks one hot minute away from a giggling fit. “Come on Sam. All that sexual tension. Your hand and my dick getting aquainted for the first time. So stiff I could drill through reinforced steel. Balls like two high yield grenades. Couldn’t exactly wait until the end of my shift now could I?”</p><p>And there’s the giggling fit. Great big gulping gasps. Loud barking, snorting, strangled sounds. Like a donkey. A dying donkey. He can’t help but chuckle away too, even if his balls are feeling halfway toward taking out a block or two this time too. After a few long minutes, Sam regards him with watery eyes, a fond smile playing about his lips. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Gabriel’s lips.</p><p>“I guess I can relate,” Sam mutters, pulling back. “After what you pulled at that table… I might have uh…” </p><p>Sam breaks off, flushing furiously. Wow. That he did not expect. </p><p>“You didn’t? Yeesh Sam do you know how many germs those public rest rooms harbor? That’s all sorts of unsettling and yet at the same time-”</p><p>“Jesus Gabe! Christ, of course I didn’t do that.” Sam laughs and shakes his head. “Kind of had to wait around for a good 20 minutes until I was decent though.”</p><p>Gabriel hums in agreement. “Hmm ditto. Except well…” He shrugs a shoulder, the elastic around his shoulder shretching and digging into his flesh as the giant wings trapped beneath his body fail to shift along with the motion.</p><p>“<em>Twice?</em>” </p><p>Sam’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead in record time, disbelief writ all over his adorable face. Yeesh, really? Surely they’ve known each other long enough. Surely Sam should know by now exactly what he does to him. No apparently not.</p><p>“Kiddo, soon as I bent over that table, all I could think about was you grabbing hold of my hips and just ploughing right in. Fucking me hard and fast right there and then…” He breaks off and makes a low growling noise in the back of his throat.</p><p>Sam’s pupils are dilating, he’s biting his lower lip. He’s picturing it, definitely picturing it. That’s it. Fucket list. Stay behind to lock up. Maybe a little costume change. Maybe a little prep so Sam doesn’t actually do him an injury with that giant moose dick of his. Ooooh maybe a plug. Sam stepping up behind him, spreading his legs forcefully, maybe holding him down, grabbing hold of his hip hard enough to bruise, pulling the plug out roughly and slamming in with one swift-</p><p>“God Gabriel you have no idea how beautiful you looked.” </p><p>Gabriel blinks up at him, thoughts derailed by the look in Sam’s eyes, by the hand in his hair. There’ll be time enough for fast and hard and oh so needy another day. Now’s time for something a little more sensual, a little more intense it would seem. Gabriel draws in a breath through his nose as Sam cards his fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, the other hand moving to cradle his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. </p><p>“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”</p><p>Gabriel’s tempted to make some flippant remark, to deflect with a heavy dose of humor, but there’s something about the look in Sam’s eyes that stops him in his tracks. Instead he stays silent, just meeting that gaze. He’s pretty sure he just flared his nostrils too much. Probably looks ridiculous, but he can’t help it. That look… </p><p>They stay like that for a good long while. Just the simplest of touches. Not erotic and yet… Gabriel’s not even sure how long, but it somehow doesn’t seem to matter. He could do this all day, stay like this, perched above the precipice. Just drinking in the view. Just taking their sweet time. </p><p>And then Sam’s hands move. First to caress the bare side of his chest, fingers pinching and rolling his exposed nipple, the other hand drifting down to his thigh, edging the flimsy material over his leaking erection. Gabriel throws his head back and groans long and loud, spreading his legs further and pushing his chest up into Sam’s ministrations, eyes fluttering shut.</p><p>The sudden sensation on the tip of his cock a moment later causes his hips to buck wildly, a strangled yell escaping from his lips. His eyes fly open, neck craning to see…</p><p><em>Hmmgh hotsauce. That was hella sneaky.</em> Sam’s face is looking all sorts of gloriously sheepish. He draws his hand back, brandishing one long and slightly mangled feather.</p><p>“Don’t you… dare stop,” Gabriel grits out between ragged breaths, before flopping back on the bed and lifting his hips up in a not so subtle invitation.</p><p> </p><p>He’s rewarded with a the barest, feather light – light feather… whatever - touch running from the base of his cock, all the way up to the head. He squirms, a string of profanity escaping from between parted lips. That feels… That feels incredible. </p><p>“Holy shit and fuck Sam,” Gabriel groans, hips attempting to stutter off the bed again as the feather circles the flared head before the very tip dips into his slit.</p><p>Sam holds him steady, one hand firmly on his hipbone, the thumb rubbing circles into the juncture between his hip and groin. Hells it’s just the right side of torture. Riding that exquisite line between too little and too much… He moans long and loud as the feather teases briefly there, the tip slicking up with his precome and then painting a trail down his shaft all the way down to his balls.</p><p><em>Sam love FUCK… GOD fuck shit n hells</em>. He’s vaguely aware of the words spiraling from his lips, but he can’t seem to help it, can’t seem to hold back. He doesn’t need to. He lets go. Tells Sam just how good it feels. Even if he doesn’t use quite the right words. It’s there in the cadence of his voice, there in his strangled moans and unintelligible yells. </p><p>Sam leans forward, briefly muffling the words on his lips, before leaving a trail of kisses down his jaw, his neck, laving over his collar bone briefly before descending on his target. Gabriel sucks in a breath and really lets loose. They haven’t even gotten to the fucking or even palming his dick yet, but this… <em>God shit and fuck</em>… <em>this</em>. Sam is lapping at his nipple, actually lapping at it, like it’s a goddamn sucker… then gently bringing it into his mouth, tongue running around the swollen nub, before sucking lightly… And all the while that feather… it never stops… running up his shaft, circling the head… tongue and feather moving in unison… tongue flicking over the raised sensitive flesh as the feather dips inside his slit, gathering copious amount of precome and then back down the shaft as Sam’s tongue goes back to that incredible lapping.</p><p>He’s shaking. Muscles tensing and untensing. His hands are in Sam’s hair. He thinks he just yelled loud enough to practically deafen Sam and maybe pulled a little too hard on those luscious locks, but Sam merely smiles at him as he pulls back, flicking his tongue once more over the highly sensitised skin before sitting back on his haunches.</p><p>
  <em>Nononono. Samfuckdontstop. Fuck.</em>
</p><p>Sam’s hand leaves his hip, fingertips edging under the fabric gathered over his right shoulder, grazing briefly over his other super perky nipple, before pinching the flesh and giving a little tug. Gabriel’s hips leave the bed again. He can’t help it. He whines low in his throat. Sam chuckles at the noise, hand leaving his nipple all too soon, feather brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves on the underside of his cock. If his brain was capable of functioning right now, he’d remember what it was called. And then it’s gone too. </p><p>He stares up at Sam. Ok maybe he glares. He was close. So damn close. Why would Sam stop? It’s not like he wouldn’t go for round 2.</p><p>Sam doesn’t say a word. He just looks all kinds of smug, lifting his eyebrows as the feather returns to Gabriel’s sensitised skin. Running a little lower, up and over his aching balls and- <em>Oh. Oh Hells Yeah</em>. No words necessary. At least not from Sam. Gabriel’s pretty sure he said that last part out loud. He eagerly lifts his legs up off the feather strewn bed, bringing his knees up to his chest and reaching down to pull his cheeks apart. It isn’t necessary. Not really. The posture has bared his opening pretty readily, but the look on Sam’s face? Definitely worth it. He revels in it. Watching Sam’s expression closely. The way his cheeks are flushing so beautifully, his pupils dilating as he looks his fill. His tongue even darts out of his mouth to wet his lip as Gabriel exposes himself so completely. It’s such a heady rush. Seeing that desire. That need. Feeling the intimacy of that gaze. </p><p>Gabriel thinks of fingering himself a little, rubbing over his own entrance and letting Sam watch him come apart. But no. He doesn’t want that. He wants Sam’s touch. Or rather, he wants to feel that feathery touch, right there. And then Sam. Definitely Sam. He wants long fingers to dip inside him and massage in just the right spot, to tease pleasure from his body, slow and perfect. He want that clever tongue. All that nipple teasing action has his hole aching for a little attention. That perfect slick muscle probing inside him, swirling, flicking at the rim. He wants that giant Moose dick, stretching him open till he feels like he can’t give any more. So full to bursting. Hmmgh. He wants. Damn it Sam. Get with the program. He thinks about letting go and snapping his fingers in the air, snapping Sam out of his hole gazing trance, but at the same time he wants to keep himself open. Ready. Oh so ready.</p><p>He’s just about to open his mouth and demand Sam touch him already, but finally, <em>finally</em>, Sam comes around from his dazed fugue state. There’s a little sheepish smile, lips quirking upwards in the most adorable manner, sending a thrill of desire directly to Gabriel’s already heavily leaking dick. And then that touch, that oh so soft touch. He hisses in a breath. His balls are aching a little too much for that. Lower, he needs it a little lower. He’s pretty sure he said a lot of that out loud too. Judging by the smirk tugging the corner of Sam’s lips upwards. But Sam relents. The feather resumes it’s journey, brushing gently over his taint, sending shivers down his spine. He draws in another shaking breath, pulling his cheeks even further apart, maybe pushing into the touch. He throws his head back and lets out an almighty yell, nerve endings tingling in glorious ways. That… that’s the ticket. The touch is too much and not enough and just perfect, all at the same time. It makes no sense whatsoever and yet that’s the only way he can describe it. Only, what actually comes out of his mouth mostly seems to contain the words <em>fuck</em> and <em>Sam</em>.</p><p>He’s pretty sure he just asked Sam to fuck him hard with the feather. It doesn’t make a lick of sense either. He’s vaguely aware of that too. Sam’s lips are quivering, like he’s not sure whether to laugh or maybe… maybe comply… Nope that won’t actually work but… The feather circles around the puckered skin and then the very tip… pushes just inside him. The muscle’s far too tight to give in to the flimsy material, but… oh the thought. Gabriel maybe thinks he gets the wing kink thing a little now. Becky certainly sent him a few intruiging AUs, no doubt inspired by learning about his Hallowe’en costume…</p><p>Gabriel’s not so lost in thought that he misses the moment Sam draws back. He maybe glares… Just a little, but in the next instant he’s groaning long and loud, because Sam just replaced the feather with his tongue. </p><p>He starts off slow. Just like all the rest. Little kitten licks with just the tip of his tongue. Holy cats. Gabriel chuckles. Nope Sam’s more of a pup usually. But that, <em>nggghhhh</em>, that feels so good. Gabriel lets go of his ass cheeks, because he needs, really needs his hands in those luscious locks. Sam merely pauses for a moment, making a little contented noise, though thankfully not purring, before dropping the feather to the bedspread and using his own thumbs to spread Gabriel wide. Apparently he has not looked his fill just yet. </p><p>And neither has Gabriel. His neck is starting to feel the strain, but he can’t look away, because Sam looks like he’s actually… actually enjoying himself, like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be, like there’s no place else in the world that he’d rather have his tongue, than lapping at Gabriel’s ass. And if that’s not love, then Gabriel doesn’t know what is. His heart skips a few beats in a row, butterflies taking flight in his stomach like they’re ready for mass migration. </p><p>He almost blurts it out. Right there and then. He almost does a Sam Winchester. But he holds his tongue at the last minute. Bites back the words and turns them into a strangled moan as Sam starts to go to town, tongue flicking rapidly across the quivering opening, before swirling in soothing circles around the muscle. It’s too soon. And hells. It would hardly be appropriate. Asking a man to marry you when his head is firmly planted between your ass cheeks and his tongue… <em>oh holy mother of fuuuuuckkkk</em>. His tongue just started probing inside your body in the most delicious and intimate way possible. </p><p>He can’t look, can’t look anymore. The expression on Sam’s face… The brows furrowed in concentration, the fluttering eyelashes, what Gabriel can see of the flushed skin over high cheekbones as Sam pulls his tongue back to Gabriel’s rim… No he’s not sure he can stop himself from saying something stupid. So he throws his head backwards, letting his eyelids flutter shut. Just focusing on the incredible sensations, on the pleasure that Sam is drawing out in a long thread from his body. </p><p>Sam hasn’t even touched his dick since the feather, but Gabriel’s pretty damn sure he doesn’t need to and honestly if he does it’ll all be over too soon. There’s the sound of a bottle cracking open, thumbs leaving his skin, though the tongue never does. Then there’s a finger, edging in beside it. He arches off the bed at that first touch, yelling out Sam’s name, tangled together with a boat load of profanity. He’s not going to last, not going to last at all. Sam works a whole lot faster now, pumping in and out of his body rapidly with finger and tongue. A second slips in so easily he barely notices the extra stretch and burn. </p><p>And just when he thinks he’s going to sail on over that precipice, Sam withdraws. Gabriel curses his name fruitily, eyes snapping open. Maybe he tugs on Sam’s hair a little too hard, but <em>hells… fuck</em>… is Sam doing this deliberately? Is Sam goddamn edging him? But oh… Sam’s holding up a feather… one that looks decidedly less mangled than the last. Gabriel draws his lower lip into his mouth, nods his head a fraction. The fingers are back, scissoring his hole open, keeping the muscle stretched wide and then… it feels weird, decidely weird. The touch is a little too soft and light to do a whole lot, but there’s a pleasant tingle to it and his muscles undulating around Sam’s fingers, that feels good too. But he wants… he needs Sam’s tongue back inside him or maybe it’s time for his giant Moose dick. As oddly erotic as the idea is... being fucked by one of his own feathers… He snorts out a laugh. Not his. He is so far from being an actual Angel…</p><p>“Ah not exactly what I was going for,” Sam says, but he smiles down at Gabriel, kissing him briefly on the lips before withdrawing the feather. Gabriel can taste himself on Sam’s tongue. And that. Now that’s erotic.</p><p>“Hmmm just need you Sam.” His voice sounds all sorts of hoarse. He’s been yelling a hell of a lot it would seem. Voice all cracked and squeaky.</p><p>And apparently he’s not done. A startled yelp is torn from his lungs as he’s suddenly lifted into the air and carried towards the bedroom wall, a flurry of feathers scattering like confetti in their wake. Sam doesn’t brace him against the wall and just fuck into him like Gabriel expects him to. No instead, he sets Gabriel down on his decidedly wobbly feet. He mutters something under his breath, something about doing this properly this time. Gabriel raises an eyebrow, but as Sam shifts a little further into his personal space, as one hand threads back into Gabriel’s hair, as the other drifts down the bare side of his chest… He gets it. He finally gets it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You know I wouldn't do that to you right? Next chapter coming up right away... Just gimme a sec (I just accidentally typed sex) to edit it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Without a doubt, the smuttiest smut I have ever smutted. Or... is it? Anyway it's pretty damn close. Ah yeah, check the tags...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SAM</p><p>He honestly expected that Gabriel would have stopped him by now, that he would have demanded a good hard fucking and that would have been the end of it. Well at least not with Sam’s cock… The feather request was a little out there, but how could Sam do anything, but olige. Maybe it wasn’t quite what either of them expected, but teasing with it on the outside, that definitely went down well. Something to explore more later. Right now though… now he’s going to simply focus on one thing. Gabriel. </p><p> He’s shaking beneath Sam’s hands, skin flushed and beaded with sweat. Desperate and on edge. Sam knows he can’t keep Gabriel here like this for much longer, but there’s something about this costume and the memories it evokes. He wants to take them back there, to that moment. Only this time… this time he won’t screw up by being so damn drunk he can barely stand. This time he can give Gabriel what he needs, he can give Gabriel everything. </p><p>He threads his fingers back into Gabriel’s hair. It’s a little damp but still so soft. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful. Much as the gold gilded locks on Hallowe’en did things to him, he finds that this is so much better. Sam never thought of himself as someone who’d get so hung up on something as irrelevant as someone’s hair. But God. Gabriel’s hair is so damn beautiful. Even all messy and tangled up as it often is. Maybe especially then. Sam’s other hand drifts down the side of Gabriel’s chest. The mildy irritated look on Gabriel’s face suddenly changes. His lips fall open. He gets it, understands what Sam’s trying to do.</p><p>Hissing in a breath, he rises up on his tiptoes as Sam bends down. It’s slow at first, but rapidly becomes heated, rapidly becomes desperate. Harsh breaths, tangled tongues and maybe a little teeth. It doesn’t last as long as the last time, Gabriel’s shaking so badly, Sam’s earlier ministrations taking their toll. His legs give out a whole lot faster. He makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, that soon turns to a groan as Sam starts to play with his nipple.</p><p>“Fuck Sam. Fuck,” Gabriel breathes out as Sam pinches and twists. </p><p>Sam smiles, letting go and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the swollen nub to soothe it. Gabriel squirms beneath his touch, pushing his chest forward into Sam’s hand. His body’s responding beautifully, but Sam can sense the impatience surfacing. And sure enough, Gabriel grabs hold of the hand that’s in his hair and places it firmly right at the top of his thigh. Sam laughs lightly, ignoring the glare Gabriel gives him and edges his hand under the flimsy fabric, feeling the bare skin beneath. Gabriel huffs out an annoyed breath. Sam raises a questioning eyebrow.</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Hello? Did you forget something?”</p><p>Sam purses his lips, trying desperately not to let the laughter escape. This is not exactly what he remembers either. He’s pretty sure there were far less complaints last time.</p><p>Gabriel looks pointedly at him before sighing and rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Uh you might have to help me out, too many purple nurples remember?”</p><p>Gabriel gasps as Sam’s hand brushes against the leaking tip of his cock.</p><p>“You forgot to take a great big whiff of my hair,” he grits out between moans.</p><p>Sam snorts out a loud laugh. <em>Seriously?</em></p><p>“Well at least you got the donkey laugh down kiddo.” Gabriel sighs and shakes his head, loose hair falling across his forehead and getting stuck there in the process.</p><p>Sam’s tempted to lift his hand and brush it away, but he’s pretty sure that action would just engender more complaints, so instead he shuffles a little closer and dips his head, burying his nose in Gabriel’s hair and taking in a deep breath. God. Yes. He presses forward, burying his face deeper into Gabriel’s messy locks, taking another breath in. He smells so damn good. Sam feels like he should be embarassed about this, about the reactions of his body to that familiar scent, but Gabriel’s not mocking him, he weirdly wants this too. It’s turning him on, judging by the precome he can feel beaded at the tip of Gabriel’s cock. </p><p>“Easy access,” Gabriel mutters.</p><p>Sam takes in one more deep breath and pulls back, noting that Gabriel’s just lifted his toga right up, exposing his groin.</p><p>Sam bites his lip, enjoying the view. Gabriel looks completely wrecked, wrecked and so damn beautiful it hurts. The wings are skewed and bedraggled, pretty much balding in places, but fuck. Still. So damn beautiful. He takes a moment just to drink in the view. To let his mind drift back to that night, to remember the pure raw need, to remember just how much his heart was aching for the man in front of him. And he gets to have this. Despite all the stupid mistakes he made in the past. He gets to have this every day. With a thrill he thinks forward, pictures Gabriel with a different set of wings, breath catching in his throat at the mere thought.</p><p>“Where’s your underwear Gabe…” His voice is nothing but a whisper.</p><p>“Never saw the point.”</p><p>No at this point Sam doesn’t either.</p><p>He surges forward, caring little if he sticks to the script. He lifts Gabriel off the ground in one swift motion, pressing him roughly back against the wall. He’s vaguely aware of a flurry of feathers about him. It doesn’t matter, he’ll buy Gabriel a new pair. </p><p>Gabriel’s lips are on his, hands threaded back in his hair, thighs wrapping around his middle. It doesn’t take long for Sam to find Gabriel’s entrance. But fuck. Lube. They need lube. He’s pretty sure there was a bottle on the dresser, Gabriel tends to leave them all over the place. Being careful to keep Gabriel’s body braced against the wall, Sam lets go with one hand and fumbles beside them. His fingers catch on something but it tips sideways with a thud. Gabriel’s not helping. Not helping at all. He’s still ravishing Sam’s mouth, hips trying to push downwards. Huffing out a sigh into Gabriel’s mouth, he fumbles again. It’s almost out of reach, but he finally manages to nudge it closer and grab hold of it. Christ. One handed? No that’s not going to work. He pushes Gabriel a little more firmly into the wall, to grunted sounds of pleasure, and tentatively lets go with the other hand. It’s a little precarious, but if he’s quick and Gabriel doesn’t make any sudden movements. Big if. He frantically empties a huge dollop into his palm and up over his fingers before throwing the bottle the side. It’s far too much, but screw it. He finds Gabriel’s opening again, and rubs gently before pressing one finger in, up to the second knuckle. Sam’s tongue and fingers seem to have done the job. The muscle is loose and giving and he already feels pretty slick inside. This won’t take long. He draws back to muffled groans and goes back in with two fingers, pumping rapidly into Gabriel’s channel a few times as Gabriel finally pulls back from devouring his mouth, groaning long and loud and thunking his head kind of painfully sounding on the wall behind him. Sam winces in sympathy, but Gabriel barely seems to notice.</p><p>“Ready shit fuck Sam. Fuck me already… God and shit and hells...”</p><p>God he looks so beautiful like this too. So damn needy. With that sight before him it’s difficult to hold back, but he adds a third finger just to be sure. Gabriel whines loudly, grinding down hard on his fingers. Sam smiles. Ok message received. He withdraws his fingers and- Fuck, condoms. His eyes dart about the room. The nearest packet is all the way over on the bed.</p><p>“Sam Winchester… I swear to God… If you do not fuck me into oblivion this minute... I’m going to… I’m going to smite you.”</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “You’re going to what?”</p><p>“Smite you Sam. Smite you.” Gabriel’s eyes flash gold in challenge. “I’m a frickin Angel of the Lord am I not?”</p><p>Sam laughs again, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Gabriel’s lips. “Ah no need for any smiting just yet, but we do need a condom.”</p><p>Gabriel makes a face at him. “Damn it Sam, skip it. I’m clean, you’re clean. And I flushed my ass out right before I came to see you. It’s not like you’ll be playing UTI roulette.”</p><p>Sam makes a face back. <em>Jesus Gabe</em>. There’s still a risk of course, but Gabriel’s meticulous hygiene in that department does lessen that risk. And the thought of coming inside Gabriel without that barrier between them… He has to admit, it’s an enticing thought. He bites his lip, but after a beat and an eyeroll from Gabriel, he nods his head. He slathers up his dick, feeling the thrill of anticipation and lines up to Gabriel’s entrance. He can feel the puckered opening quivering against the tip of his cock. <em>Christ</em>. Taking a deep breath, he pushes up and into that perfect heat.</p><p>It feels incredible. They haven’t done this since that day in the cabin, locked away in the workshop with the sound of a rainstorm drumming down above them. He knows it’s not exactly sensible, but he’s honestly struggling to care. Because soon enough he’s seated deep within his lover, groin flush with Gabriel’s ass. And it feels so damn good. Gabriel makes a deep gutteral sound then he’s shifting his legs, no longer gripping tightly but instead spreading a little wider, digging his heels into Sam’s back. Sam takes a moment to be glad he has Gabriel so firmly braced, then he’s groaning deeply himself as his cock slides a fraction deeper, bottoming out completely. Fuck. He burries his head in the juncture between Gabriel’s neck and shoulder, closing his eyelids against the tangled hair that’s threatening to poke him in the eye. He breathes deeply of Gabriel’s scent, just listening to their harsh breaths, feeling the thrum of Gabriel’s pulse beneath his lips. He draws the skin into his mouth, sucking lightly, then a little harder as words begin to spiral from Gabriel’s mouth once more. He uses a little teeth, sucks hard enough to leave a mark.</p><p>And then he’s moving, letting the words wash over him as he starts to thrust up into that perfect heat, as he laps soothingly over the mark he’s sure he just made, dipping his head a little further and going to work on Gabriel’s collar bone.</p><p>Hands tighten in his hair, tugging just short of being too much. He’s barely moving but he can tell Gabriel’s already getting close. He pulls back reluctantly, eyeing the dark bruise standing out against Gabriel’s pale but flushed skin. Fuck. Fuck, that’s so hot. Gabriel’s regarding him through half lidded eyes, barely any gold showing around pupils blown wide. He wants to mark Gabriel all over his pale torso. Maybe on his hips and ass too, and he’s sure, absolutely sure that Gabriel wants that too. Another day. He’s kept Gabriel waiting long enough. He grabs hold of Gabriel’s hip with one hand, the other drifting down to his groin, he dips a little lower to palm his balls. Yes he’s definitely close. </p><p>Sam’s practically deafened by the exclamations as he rolls those aching balls in his hand. He makes soothing noises, trying to ignore the hurled profanity, just wrapping his palm around Gabriel’s leaking erection and starting to stroke in earnest. Muscles spasm briefly around him, Gabriel’s inner walls responding to the added point of pleasure. Sam braces himself for the onslaut… but no, not quite yet. He quickens the pace, finding Gabriel’s sweet spot with practiced ease, making sure to slam into him just right.</p><p>Gabriel feels so goddamn tight around him, gripping him perfectly in that velvet grip. There’s nothing like this. Nothing in the world that can beat this sensation, this feeling deep in his gut. His heart is thudding against his ribcage, blood rushing in his ears. Gabriel’s voice stutters. Sam’s eyes snap to his face. There’s an odd expression right there, but it’s gone a second later as Gabriel resumes his steady flow of consciousness. Sam worries for a moment, worries that there’s something wrong, but soon enough the thought slips from his mind, the sensations taking his body to new heights. He tightens his hold on Gabriel’s hip, thrusting deep inside. <em>Love you. Love you so goddamn much.</em></p><p>There’s little warning, but what there is is damn near deafening. His ears are ringing with it. And then he feels it, Gabriel’s channel is convulsing around him, his body shaking as he spills his release messily between them. It goes everywhere. Sam’s pretty sure some of it just landed on his ear. But he’s a little too busy to worry about that right now as he’s thrusting once more into that perfect tight heat, pulsing deep within his lover as the world about them receeds.</p><p>~~~</p><p>He takes a ragged breath, breathing in the scent of Gabriel’s skin, the faint hint of Strawberries and cream from his shampoo. They can’t stay here like this. His legs feel like they’re likely to give way any minute now and Gabriel’s seems to have half passed out on his shoulder.</p><p>Grunting with the effort, he carefully secures his grip on Gabriel’s lax body and carries him the couple of steps over to the bed. His spent cock slips from Gabriel’s channel, leaving a trickle of come in it’s wake. Fuck that’s…</p><p>Sam bites his lip and places Gabriel down gently in the center of the bed. God that’s… <em>Christ</em>… Even though his legs feel damn near weak enough to collapse beneath him, he stands there a moment and just looks his fill. Gabriel’s legs have fallen open, come trailing down his thigh and onto the wings beneath him. <em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>His eyes flutter open. He looks utterly wrecked. Wrecked and used and so damn beautiful. </p><p>He follows Sam’s gaze, chuckles a little hoarsely and spreads his legs wider, drawing his knees up and open, giving Sam the perfect view of his loose, swollen and dripping hole.</p><p>Sam’s spent cock throbs. He’s pretty sure he can’t get hard again so soon, but his cock is certainly making a valiant attempt. He steps forward on shaking legs, climbing up and kneeling between Gabriel’s spread legs. He feels his pulse quickening. He’s really not sure what he’s doing, but there’s something a little too compelling about that sight. There’s a thread of uncertainty in his mind. Will Gabriel think he’s dirty, will he think Sam’s gross if he gives into this impulse?... But Gabriel’s only looking at him with a mixture of lust and… and love. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand and runs it down the inside of one hairy thigh. The muscle beneath him tenses. Sam freezes, looks up into Gabriel’s eyes.</p><p>Gabriel chuckles lightly. “Just ticklish.” His voice sounds all hoarse and gravelly. Sexy, so damn sexy. He gives Sam a lazy smile and draws his knees up further.</p><p>Sam draws in another breath and runs his hand down to cup one cheek. God, Gabriel’s ass is incredible. Sam’s never seen a more gorgeous, shapely ass in all his life. Not a single one of the few women he’s slept with can compete. He squeezes briefly then moves his fingers over to Gabriel’s swollen rim. The skin looks a little tender so he keeps his touch light. Gabriel groans. He looks caught between wanting to throw his head back on the pillows and wanting to crane his neck to watch. Watching wins out. Sam eyes flick back to Gabriel’s hole, feeling the weight of his heated gaze. His cheeks flush, but he holds steady, pressing lightly right there. His fingertip slips easily inside. He swirls it around, pulling back to view his finger dripping with his own come. Fuck that’s… But he wants…. And judging by the words of encouragement, he’s pretty sure Gabriel wants too... This time he goes in with two fingers, pushes them right inside. Gabriel’s muscles are loose and relaxed and giving and he can feel just how wet he is with Sam’s release. He pumps his fingers lazily a few times. Christ the noises. Both from Gabriel and from the motion itself. </p><p>He glances up. Despite his somewhat explosive release, it looks like Gabriel’s already getting a little hard. Sam bites his lip, eyes drifting back to watch as he withdraws his fingers, watch as the white fluid seeps out behind them. Heart hammering in his chest once more, he dips his head. There’s a sharp intake of breath. He stops just short, eyes searching out Gabriel’s face, fear gripping him for a moment before he sees the look in Gabriel’s eyes. He’s not disgusted by the thought. He’s turned on. Really turned on. Feeling his confidence build, the fears chased away, Sam reaches out his tongue and laps lightly over Gabriel’s seeping hole.</p><p>A string of profanity follows his action, accompanied by hands fisted in his hair. He’s not sure if it’s the intimacy of the act, the taste on his tongue or the sounds Gabriel is making, but he starts to feel heat pool in his own groin. It’s a little soon for him to get properly hard, but there’s definitely a build there. Using his thumbs like he did earlier, he spreads Gabriel’s cheeks to give himself proper access and continues to lick gently over the puckered muscle, lapping up the fluid that escapes from Gabriel’s body. He wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. He’s tasted his own come before, but never quite like this. This way, he can taste Gabriel too. It’s not unpleasant in the slightest, quite the opposite. He feels the muscle fluttering beneath his ministrations. He draws back for the briefest of moments and just watches that motion. It’s quite the heady view.</p><p>Gabriel makes a muttered sound of complaint. One hand untangling from his hair and nudging him back to Gabriel’s ass. Sam laughs despite himself, the very thought that he was unsure about this seems ridiculous now. Of course this is something that Gabriel would enjoy. Before the complaints can turn more vociferous, he leans back in again, nosing at Gabriel’s perineum as his tongue returns to his opening. The muscle is so lax now that it’s easy to dip inside. The taste of Gabriel is stronger in here. Fuck he tastes so good. He swirls his tongue inside, bringing it to the rim and swallowing down all that he finds.</p><p>He loses track of time, focus narrowed to the taste, letting all the rest wash over him. He alternates. Between his fingers and his tongue, using those fingers to delve a little deeper to stimulate Gabriel in just the right way. At one point, between panting breaths, Gabriel demands a taste, and he watches with lust filled eyes as Gabriel sucks Sam’s fingers into his mouth. He’s achingly hard again. He didn’t think it possible and yet he definitely is. He dips back down using his thumbs to spread Gabriel open as he thrusts his tongue deep inside. He keeps on thinking he must have gotten it all, but apparently he deposited a heavy load up in there. Gabriel’s back to writhing, calling out his name, mixed with a jumble of swears and a nonsensical string of consiousness. </p><p>He’s close. Sam is too. He removes his thumbs and reaches a hand down to grab his own dick, starting to stroke himself hard and fast. He can’t quite see from his position, face buried in Gabriel’s ass, but he’s pretty sure Gabriel just started to do the same thing. Close… so close. Gabriel’s shaking beneath him, chanel starting to contract around his tongue. He pulls back to the rim, fitting his lips around Gabriel’s opening and sucks hard.</p><p>Gabriel comes with a scream, body writhing beneath him. He pulls back to watch, fingers replacing his tongue to pump in and out as Gabriel rides his orgasm to completion. It’s enough. Sam feels his own orgasm building. In a fit of pure wild abandon, he leans over Gabriel’s still writhing body and pumps himself hard and fast. Vision whiting out at the edges as he tips over the edge. But he still watches, watches as his come stripes over Gabriel’s chest, splattering up onto his face and dripping down into his hair.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>“Prime… grade A… Bukkake porn,” he mutters. </p><p>Sam stiffens in his arms. His body. Not his dick. Gabriel’s pretty sure neither of them are getting it up again any time soon. He pets his hands through Sam’s hair reassuringly, whistling long and low.</p><p>“Holy cats Sam, where the hell have you been all my life?” </p><p>Sam smiles against his skin and nuzzles into his shoulder, body relaxing into his side.</p><p>“So, how does it feel to fuck an Angel?” Sam snorts, actually snorts into his skin. Super attractive. He raises an eyebrow, but his fingers resume petting through Sam’s luscious locks. “Annnnd come deep inside him. Then eat him out. Then come all over his face.”</p><p>He can actually feel Sam’s cheeks heat up against his skin. But there’s a laugh there too. He stops nuzzling for the moment and props himself up on one elbow looking down at Gabriel’s face. They cleaned up the worst of it already, but Gabriel can still feel a little dried up in his eyebrows.</p><p>Sam’s lips twitch upwards, he’s got that uber dorky smile on his face. No kiddo, don’t…</p><p>“Heavenly,” Sam simply says. Leaning forward to drop a quick kiss on the end of his nose.</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes heavenwards, groaning for a whole different reason. And this is the man he accidentally asked to marry him. In the throws. He’s sure damn glad that Sam was too far gone to take in what he let slip from between his lips or this whole thing could have gone in a completely different direction. He did notice the falter, but he’s no doubt so used to Gabriel’s babbled nonsense, that he’s long since learned to tune it out.</p><p>Gabriel’s glad. They have it too damn good for him to go and spoil it all by rushing ahead too soon. Gabriel may know what he wants, may know that this really is the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with, eye wateringly cringeworthy jokes and all, but… The last person that Sam got to that point with. The woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. She died. He lost her before he could… Fuck the thought of that. The thought of losing Sam. He drags Sam back down to his shoulder. Sam goes willingly, snuggling into his side. He resumes his petting, taking comfort in the feel of Sam’s soft hair, in the gentle warm breaths against his skin. </p><p>Much as he’s sure, he won’t rush Sam into anything. It’s the last thing he needs. They’ve been together less than half a year. It wouldn’t be right to race them down that road, caught up in a whirlwind of emotion and lust. No. Not yet. </p><p>He plants a kiss in Sam’s hair, enjoying the soft hum of contentment against his skin. Not yet. But he hopes, he really hopes, one day…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I blame lockdown. And Gabriel. This was all him, honestely. I had nothing to do with it at all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah I still can't write Summaries so I'll just write a coupla notes...</p><p>*TRIGGER WARNING*: Canon consistent mention of what happened to Charlie's mother. Non graphic. The timings are different. i.e. mention of car accident, head trauma (non graphic) and passing away.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Sam pushes him roughly back against the wall out back of the Roadhouse. He chuckles, but yowch that actually hurt his wings a little.</p><p>
  <em>(What?)</em>
</p><p>He shuffles forward and unfurls them from behind his back. Hells, that’s so much better. Sam makes a growling noise in the back of his throat and surges forward, once more crushing his wings between the rest of his body and the wall. A flutter of feathers falls to the ground. He peers around Sam’s head and glares down at them. Then he arches one eyebrow. Sam fucked him with one of his feathers once. Felt all weird and ticklish but actually… he’s not entirely adverse to the idea again. Maybe a little teasing, maybe dipping just inside. <em>Hmmm yeah</em>. He groans long and loud as one hand drifts beneath his toga brushing against the head of his cock, the other plunging into the downy feathers on the underside of his wing.</p><p>
  <em>(No that’s not… That’s not right. I don't have… don't have wings. What the hell is happening?)</em>
</p><p>He pushes the niggling thoughts aside. Feels good. Feels too good to stop. His eyelids flutter shut, the only things he’s aware of the sensations of: Sam’s hands on his skin, the feel of Sam’s fingers carding through his feathers, the harsh breaths shared between them. The cock nudging at his entrance. Thrusting in on one long stroke. He doesn’t remember any prep, but hells he’s hardly going to complain. He rocks down, meeting Sam’s every thrust, feeling the pressure build all too rapidly. The wind is whipping his hair into his face. </p><p>
  <em>(What the hells?)</em>
</p><p>He opens his eyes to see they’ve risen far above the roof tops, Sam still seated deep inside him. He tightens his limbs about Sam’s body. He doesn’t want Sam to fall. Sam merely groans, seemingly unaware of their predicament. He thrusts more deeply, angling his hips just right. It’s Gabriel’s turn to groan. He throws his head back, seeing stars beneath eyelids that have fluttered shut once more.</p><p>
  <em>Sam god fuck Sam.</em>
</p><p>But Sam’s no longer inside him. He feels panic rise right up into a throat that suddenly feels painfully dry. He tries to yell, but no words issue from between his lips. His eyes fly open.</p><p>
  <em>(That’s not... That doesn’t make any sense…)</em>
</p><p>Sam’s before him, almost like he’s standing on solid ground, though there’s nothing beneath him, nothing holding him up.</p><p>“You’ve got a little…” Sam gestures at his torso.</p><p>Gabriel frowns. He’s pretty sure he didn’t come yet, so how did he… He looks down, stares at the spreading red bloom staining his toga scarlet.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>It’s all the thought he has time for before he’s plummeting towards the ground below. He screams. His throat feels like it’s on fire even though no sound comes out. He grasps desperately for Sam… for anything, but his hands meet nothing but empty air. </p><p>Surely he should have hit the ground by now. He whips his head around, but there’s nothing beneath him, nothing but a vast empty abyss. His once glorious wings reduced to bones and ashes.</p><p>
  <em>(I don’t… don’t have wings. This is wrong. All wrong)</em>
</p><p>Sam. He whimpers. A strangled sob finally escapes from his abused throat. <em>I love you Sam… Please be ok… Please…</em> </p><p>It’s the last thought he has before the emptiness consumes him.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>A strangled yell issues from between his lips. He thrashes, narrowly avoiding tumbling from the edge of his bed. Damn it. How did he end up over here? He’s way over at Gabriel’s side. Only it’s empty and… <em>Fuck</em>. He runs a hand over his face. It’s always the same. That brief moment of relief when he thinks it’s all just a bad dream… And then he remembers. He starts to curl in on himself. </p><p>The sound of footsteps a moment later startle him. His heart is in his throat. <em>Gabriel?</em> The door flings open and his brother is soon at his side. A sob escapes him. He forgot. How could he forget?</p><p>“Shhh it’s ok Sammy.”</p><p>Warm arms wrap around him and he leans into the embrace. Grabbing onto Dean’s arms, holding on for dear life.</p><p>“I forgot…” The words escape him before he can keep them back.</p><p>“You forgot what Sammy?” Dean rubs reassuring circles into the damp fabric at his back.</p><p>Sam draws in a shaking breath. “I- I guess I forgot you were here…”</p><p>He trails off. He’s pretty sure Dean knows exactly the full extent of what he meant, as those arms hold him a little tighter. He takes a few steadying breaths, just letting Dean hold him in silence, just waiting for his pulse to return to something resembling normality. Dean’s ever patient. He doesn’t try to move Sam on before he’s ready. He feels deeply grateful – his brother is better at this than he’d ever give himself credit for – but he also feels a stab of guilt. Dean should be with Cas right now. He’s suffering too. It’s not fair for Sam’s inability to keep a hold of himself to infringe on that. It really isn't. He needs to get his act together. He knows he does. His brother can’t keep doing this, alternating between his place and here, never truly getting a proper rest himself. He knows Bobby gave him leave for as long as he needs it, along with a huge cherry pie, baked by his wife Karen, but damn, this can’t be good for his health. </p><p>“What time is it?” he finally asks, once he’s sure his voice won’t waver too much. It does anyway.</p><p>“Uh it’s not too early.”</p><p>“Dean…” He draws back and gives his brother a look.</p><p>Dean raises his eyebrows. “Actually it’s not. Just gone half five. I was up already.”</p><p><em>Liar</em>. Sam sighs, running a hand over his face. It’s useless to apologise. Dean will just give him that look. So instead he untangles himself from his damp bedsheets and grabs a towel.</p><p>“I uh. I really need a shower.”</p><p>Dean’s lips twitch, but he mercifully doesn’t make comment, just nods his head and gets off the bed himself, moving to the doorway. </p><p>“I’ll put on the coffee and rustle us up a proper breakfast.”</p><p>Sam makes a face. By proper, Dean means dripping in artery clogging grease. But what the hell. He needs to eat something. It’s been a week, and he already has to use a belt to stop his damn jeans from falling off him. So he nods his head a fraction, busying himself as Dean leaves the room. His t-shirt is clinging to him uncomfortably. He sighs. His bedsheets will definitely need changed again too. It was both a blessing and a curse, the first time he had to do it. The bed no longer smells of Gabriel. </p><p>He pushes the thought away. He’ll visit the hospital soon. Dean drives him in whenever he’s here. Maybe there’ll be a change. He swallows around the lump in his throat. Maybe. He honestly doesn’t hold out much hope. But maybe today will be different… Taking a deep breath, he pushes all thoughts aside. He’ll know soon enough. For now he needs to focus on the simple tasks. Wash. Dry. Dress. Force some food down his throat. Pretend everything’s normal. Everything’s ok. Like he doesn’t feel dead inside.</p><p>~~~</p><p>It’s still early, but the hospital’s already bustling. It bothered Sam at first, but now he barely notices it. It’s just all part of the noise. He looks up, stopping in his tracks before he accidentally  barrels into the figure that just emerged from one of the private rooms. She gives him a small smile, signing briefly. <em>Hey Sam</em>. He signs back. <em>Hey Bonnie</em>. He doesn’t get any further before she gives him a small shake of her head. His heart sinks, though he expected as much. She gives him a sympathetic smile, but she doesn’t feed him any of the bullshit about it being early days. About there still being time. She somehow gets it, and he appreciates her even more. Instead she steps up to him, looking furtively down the hallway before giving him a small tight hug. Sam knows she’s not supposed to, that volunteers can comfort, but are supposed to keep a certain professional distance… But Bonnie takes no notice. This is different. Gabriel was her friend too. She misses him. And having lost both parents… There’s a certain understanding between them. It had felt a little weird at first, but he soon found himself taking comfort from her silent presence, then found himself researching a little sign language so that he could somehow communicate how much he appreciated her being around. </p><p>Because somehow it’s easier. To have someone there. Who understands, who’ll be truthful, who won’t sugar coat it for him, but will just be there. Her lips quirk upwards in a small smirk. For a moment it reminds him painfully of Gabriel, but just as soon her expression shifts and it’s just Bonnie again. She motions along the hallway to Gabriel’s room, making a string of slow movements. Sam doesn’t catch everything, but he gets the gist. He lets out a startled laugh. Ok fair warning. She smiles again and bids him fairwell, rushing off on her rounds. She has bed pans to empty. A task which she was happy to inform him, is not the highlight of her day.</p><p>Sam shakes his head and lets a small smile play about his lips. He gets why Gabriel liked her so much. He makes his way down the hallway and rounds the corner. The door is ajar. He pushes it open, careful to not make too much noise, eyebrows raising almost to his hairline as he takes in the scene before him. Bonnie was not exaggerating. Neither was Dean. Wow. He stands in the doorway and just watches a moment.</p><p>Since a few days after Gabriel was admitted to the ward, he’s had more visitors every day. He touched a whole lot of lives. Sam gets it. Gabriel was… <em>is</em>… he’s incredible and much as he wound people up on occasion, the people who really got to know him, they fell for the person he was. Jo comes by as frequently as she can. She’s taken on a lot more shifts, covering for both Gabriel and Luke. Luke tried to work, but it was a disaster. He kept on getting into fights and in the end their boss, Rufus, had to insist he take compassionate leave. Rufus is working on finding temporary staff, but for now the burden is mostly falling on Benny and especially Jo. She seems a little more worn out every day. It makes his heart ache when he sees that. He knows how close they are. Jo just as much a part of Gabriel’s family as Cas, Luke and Sam. Ellen came by the other day. Sam took one look into her eyes and found himself breaking down in her arms. She just held him, saying little, but reassuring him just the same. She didn’t mention the exhibition. And he felt greatful for that too.</p><p>Benny swings by almost as frequently as Jo. Sam’s never gotten to know him really, but it’s clear just how much Gabriel meant to the man. He sits for long moments by Gabriel’s bed, reading him nonsense from World Weekly News in his soft southern accent. Sam can see just how ridiculous he finds the so called articles, but he does it anyway, because he knows it’s what Gabriel would enjoy.</p><p>Half of the local law enforcement have been by. Sam tried to make a stuttering apology to Sheriff Hanscum, but she told him to think nothing of it, that she would have done the same in his place. Then she told him to stop being all formal and just call her Donna and brought him in for a hug before he could make any reply.</p><p>He knows Charlie’s been too, though they keep on missing each other, sometimes alone, sometimes with Kevin and Natalie in tow. He thinks he should maybe co-ordinate, but he’s not sure he can face his friends right now. He knows it’s shitty but he can’t help how he feels.</p><p>Betty and a few other ‘Cougars’ from Gabriel’s retirees class have visited. He keeps on missing them as well. He knows how kind and generous they are… but he’s kind of glad of missing them too. Gabriel means a lot to them and… well he guesses he feels a little guilty about not making more of an effort to come along to one of the classes. He’s been busy, but he promised right at the beginning of the year that he’d come and meet them, maybe give them a few pointers. There always seemed like there’d be more time…</p><p>Chuck and Becky. He somehow expected that it would be Becky that would break down, but it wasn’t. The raw emotion on Gabriel’s old friend’s face was too much to bear. Sam had to leave. He shut himself in the rest rooms, rested his head back against the cubicle wall and he wept until he could weep no more. He passed them as he was heading back to Gabriel’s ward. Becky gave him a small sad smile, rubbing circles into Chuck’s back as he kept on muttering the same thing over and over, about all the wasted time. When Sam settled into the chair beside Gabriel that day, he found himself weeping once more. Not about wasted time, but about the time they may never have. The future that in all likelihood has been stolen from them. And in that moment, and many moments before and since, he felt like he was cursed. That the people close to him were destined to be hurt or worse. It’s a ridiculous notion, when he’s in his right mind he gets that, but he hasn’t felt in his right mind much these days.</p><p>The insistent high pitched noise brings him back to himself and he realises he’s been standing there staring into space for God knows how long. Two pairs of eyes are regarding him with sympathy. One of them is made from buttons.</p><p>“..Mr Fizzles wants to help Sam. Wants to listen. Does Sam want to talk?” </p><p>Sam just stares at the sock a moment, then he rubs a hand over his face. <em>Jesus.</em> </p><p>“Uh hey Garth. Sorry, I was… I guess I didn’t sleep very well.”</p><p>Garth tilts his head to the side, the sock puppet following his motion. Sam stares at it again.</p><p>“Mr Fizzles is a good listener. He’s here for Sam whenever he needs it.”</p><p>Sam looks at the sock puppet with wide eyes. He blinks and turns his attention back to Garth’s expectant face. </p><p>“Ah I’m ok Garth, honestly. Just tired.”</p><p>The sock puppet’s mouth opens, but closes a second later, like Garth was going to call him out on the obvious lie, but thought better of it. He looks down at his lap for a moment, then reaches up to remove the puppet and place it in his pocket. Hands in both pockets, he climbs to his feet and makes his way over to the doorway. Sam stands to the side to let him pass. He stops just short, taking his hand out of his pocket for a moment to pat Sam gently on the shoulder. Sam only just stops himself from flinching.</p><p>“I meant what I said Sam. I might not be an expert but… I took Psychology 101… It’s good to talk.”</p><p>Sam raises his eyebrows at that, then mentally curses himself. But Garth merely chuckles.</p><p>“Ok so I swept up afterwards and maybe picked up a few abandoned notes. But well… the offer’s always there.”</p><p>Sam nods his head. He suddenly doesn’t trust himself to speak.</p><p>Garth looks over his shoulder at Gabriel’s still form. He gives a brief salute.</p><p>“Sayonara, kemosabe.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Oh who am I kidding. I’ll see you tomorrow Big G.”</p><p>He gives one more brief smile to Sam and then he takes his leave.</p><p>Sam stands there near the doorway for a moment, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry. <em>Sayonara</em>. Gabriel used to say that sometimes. When he wanted to be especially dramatic. He swallows around the lump in his throat and makes his way over to the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to Gabriel’s forehead. He stays there a moment, breathing in Gabriel’s scent. It’s not the same. He somehow doesn’t smell quite like himself. Sam sighs and settles himself back into the chair closest to Gabriel’s bed. He takes hold of Gabriel free hand, like he always does, giving it a gentle squeeze. It stays limp in his hand, like it always does.</p><p>He swallows down the bitter disappointment and takes a deep breath.</p><p>“So ah… that was weird. You ah… you think Garth’s been drinking the Kool aid a little too much?”</p><p>His only reply is the steady beep of the heart monitor, the hiss of the ventilator. He resists the urge to let out one almighty scream. Just so he can hear something else. Anything else. He closes his eyes. Concentrates on his breathing. In, out, in out. Those are good sounds. Without them… He feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, a deep ache taking up residence in the center of his chest. Maybe he’s not dead inside after all.</p><p>He sighs and reaches into his pocket for his ipod. He brings up the playlist he made last night when he was struggling to sleep. The doctor said that anything that could stimulate Gabriel’s memory would be a good thing. Familiar scents, familiar sounds, sharing memories of their time together. He tried the last, but he kept on breaking down. Maybe this will help. He scrolls through the list, checking it one more time. Ok so maybe he shouldn’t have left <em>Paint It Black</em> in there, it’s hardly a cheerful song, but it’s Sam’s favorite and the memories it now evokes… Of Gabriel sitting on his bed naked, electro acoustic on his lap… singing so beautifully, singing just for him. </p><p>He misses Gabriel’s voice maybe most of all. His soft chuckle, his mocking tone, his seductive drawl, the hint of his southern birth occasionally coming to the fore. He’s lived in Kansas long enough that it’s mostly faded away. His family moved to Jericho when he was still a child. Neither of his brothers have any accent at all, but Gabriel kept just a little of it. That gorgeous drawl, surfacing when he’s sleepy, or thinks Sam’s an idiot, or when he wants Sam to get him naked right there and then.</p><p>Sam swallows, the urge to get out his cell and ring up Gabriel’s voice mail again, difficult to ignore. It feels like he does it a thousand times a day. Just listening to that short snatch of ridiculousness again and again. He changed it shortly after Sam found out about the last thing he was holding back. It had surprised Sam a little, but at the same time he was glad. Because Gabriel was doing what he always did. He wasn’t ashamed and he certainly wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. Sam accepted him for who he was. So of course he revelled in it a little. <em>You have reached Casa Erotica, where all your fantasies become reality.</em> He even used that ridiculous Hungarian accent. Then the soft chuckle, the one that makes Sam’s stomach flip flop every time he hears it. <em>Leave a message after the tone. Or don’t.</em> That’s it. Only that last part in Gabriel’s own flippant tone. But he still finds himself dialling up, time and time again.</p><p>He sighs to himself. It all looks okay. He makes sure to check that the volume’s turned down low enough not to bother the other patients and staff, and he hits play, placing the device carefully on the bedspread beside their joined hands.</p><p>He makes it all the way to the last verse of the first song, thinking he’s doing ok. But then his memory takes over. He doesn’t hear Jimmy Hendrix anymore. He hears Gabriel. The rich, deeply melodic tones of his voice, with that perfect raspy undertone. The passion in his voice. The performance. </p><p>And he realises that he’s not doing ok. Not doing ok at all. He slumps down onto the side of the bed, head resting right next to Gabriel’s, tightening his grip on Gabriel’s lax hand. And he just breaks.</p><p>~~~</p><p>The playlist has long since ended when Charlie finds him, still curled up by Gabriel’s side. Silent. Staring at their clasped hands in front of his face. She closes the distance between them in a hurry, but stops just short, like she’s unsure if he’ll startle and bolt if she gets too close.</p><p>“Hey Noob,” she says tentatively. “How’s it hanging?” Her face falls, like she just realised she made the biggest blunder in the history of all blunders.</p><p>Despite everything, Sam finds the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. He slowly rises up from his position, trying to ignore the very obvious damp patch from where he was just lying. His mind absurdly supplies him with the off color innuendo Gabriel would make at the sight and that makes him smile a little bit more. He must look a wreck. He can see it in Charlie’s worried eyes. He hasn’t shaved in a week, his clothes are all rumpled and honestly, he’s tried to avoid looking in the mirror too often as he doesn’t particularly want to see the extent of the dark circles under his eyes. But after a moment of staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, Charlie gives him a small warm smile in return.</p><p>She doesn’t ask him how he is, how Gabriel is, she just settles down in the seat beside him and starts talking about her latest shows, what their friends have been up to, the world of online gaming. And he’s greatful, so damn greatful. Because he doesn’t want to talk about how not ok he is, he doesn’t even want her sympathy. Sometimes it feels like he’s drowning in it. And it’s too much. He just wants this. To hear about the inconsequental things. To forget. Even if it’s just for a little while.</p><p>But eventually she trails off and they sit in silence. It’s clear that she’s finally ran out of things to say. Sam lets go of Gabriel’s hand. He starts to rise, thinking he’ll give her time alone.</p><p>“I didn’t know which one he’d like…”</p><p>Sam blinks down at her, the apparent non-squitor hanging in the air between them.</p><p>After a beat she drags a heavy canvas bag from the floor beside her that Sam failed to notice before, up and into her lap. It’s full to the brim with paperbacks. From the little Sam see, covering all genres under the sun. She begins to pull them out at random and turn them over in her hands, before discarding them and trying another.</p><p>“Charlie…” he begins in a soft voice.</p><p>“I- I knew when it came to mom. It was an obvious choice. I mean, how could I not read her the Hobbit. It was what made me who I am and I-”</p><p>“Charlie?” </p><p>She cuts off her babbling, dropping “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” back into her bag right on top of George Orwell’s “1984”. She looks up at him, tears standing out in her eyes. She swallows and looks down at the bag in her lap.</p><p>“I used to read to her… my mom…”</p><p>Sam sits back down, leaning forward to gently take hold of her hand. She looks down at their clasped hands and takes in a shaky breath.</p><p>“I’m sorry you don’t need to hear this. I’ll just..”</p><p>“Charlie, please, it’s ok. He was… he is your friend too.” He winces at the slip in tense. She gives him a momentary worried glance before her eyes dart back to their hands again. “It’s good to talk.” He winces again at the irony of repeating Garth’s words when he’s refused to do just that for so long.</p><p>She takes in another shaky breath. “10 years ago my mom… she was in a car accident… I… I used to sit with her whenever I could. Read to her.” She rummages in the bottom of the bag and pulls out a battered old copy of the Hobbit. “She used to read me to sleep at night when I was a kid. Sh… she'd read me The Hobbit. She's the reason I love the stuff I love.”</p><p>Sam doesn’t say a word, just rubs a thumb over the back of her hand.</p><p>“The nurses said it would help but… she was gone. I think maybe they realised it would help me. Help me to say goodbye.” She takes in a sharp breath, a look of horror in her eyes as she realises what she just said. </p><p>Sam feels his stomach clench painfully, bile rising up his throat. But he tries not to let it show.</p><p>“Shit Noob. I didn’t mean. It’s not the same ok? There was significant head trauma. My mom never stood much of a chance. I’ve done the research. Statistically speaking Gabriel stands a far greater chance of-”</p><p>“It’s ok Charlie.” He rubs circles more rapidly into the back of her hand. “I’ve done the research too… I… I know the odds.”</p><p>His voice falters at the end. He looks away. </p><p>“Every set of data has it’s statistical outliers. I get how crappy it is being in this limbo,  but…” She blows out a long breath, looking over at the machines attached to Gabriel’s still form. “There’s a reason they don’t just switch everything off straight away… At least when there’s still hope. There is still hope Sam. I spoke to Cas. They haven’t even hinted that it’s time to… He’s still inside the bellcurve. Skewed bellcurve. You know what I mean.”</p><p>Sam leans forward and wraps his arms around Charlie’s body, holding her close and resting his chin on the top of her head. They stay like that for long moments, just taking comfort from each other’s presence.</p><p>“Did it help?” Sam finally asks, pulling back, but keeping his hands on Charlie’s forearms like he’s seen Gabriel do so many times before. Keeping that connection between them. “I mean, do you think it helped you to…” He trails off. He can’t finish that sentence. </p><p>Charlie makes a brief face at him. “We’re not there yet Noob. This isn’t the final battle. Winter hasn’t come to Westeros. But… Yeah it helped. It took my mind off of things. Made me feel like I was actually doing something useful for once.”</p><p>Sam nods his head before pressing a kiss to the top of Charlie’s head. She swipes a hand playfully at him.</p><p>“Uggh your cooties are all over me.” </p><p>Sam laughs. He stands up. Leans over to press a kiss to Gabriel’s forehead before turning back to Charlie. His eyes fall on the book sitting at the top her bag. He reaches in and pulls it out, handing it to her.</p><p>“This one. He really loves this one.”</p><p>Charlie looks down at the cover before smiling up at him. “Thanks Arthur,” she says with a mischieveous grin on her face. </p><p>Sam sighs and shakes his head. He heads over to the door, stopping just before he leaves. “So long and thanks for all the fish.”</p><p>She grins back at him before opening the book to the first page. </p><p>“The house stood on a slight rise just on the edge of the village. It stood on its own and looked out over a broad spread of West Country farmland.” She pauses and clears her throat. When she begins again the waver has left her voice. “Not a remarkable house by any means…”</p><p>He steps out and closes the door to just a crack behind him. </p><p>
  <em>He’s still inside the bellcurve.</em>
</p><p>He takes a deep breath. Charlie’s right. He can’t give up hope. Not yet. If their rolls were reversed he knows that Gabriel wouldn’t give up on him. As difficult as it is… he just needs to keep trying. It may be an exercise in futility. Or maybe… maybe he can find a way to reach him…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hoo boy was that angsty. Angst with a side of angst. Ooh and here's more angst for you...</p><p>Sorry? Anyway to make it up to you, the next update will be multi chapter. Sam's birthday! On Sam's birthday! You can bet that Gabriel has plans ;). Updates after may me slightly less frequent as I've come to a bit of a block. Complicated scenes involving multiple characters are not my forte. I shall attempt to unstick myself a.s.a.p.</p><p>Ooh also wanted to give a shout out here to my friend @datajana who's Rich based <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1185974">A Part to Play series</a> has been hugely influencial in me upping my smut game. The last smuttiness, definitely influenced by a rather delicious scene in that series. Anyway the series is beautifully written with gorgeous characterisations and an ever more fascinating plot and a richly complex multiverse... verse. I don't describe it well, but just trust me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Sam's birthday tomorrow. Gabriel has plans. Big plans. But can he hold off until tonight?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>DISCLAIMER: I usually pride myself in being vaguely realistic. But... well... I'm pretty sure this isn't realistic. At all. It's just super super silly.</p><p>EDIT: currently editing to make it a teeny bit more realistic, but keeping the ridiculous and it will still be on the unrealistic side.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ONE AND A HALF MONTHS EARLIER</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Gabriel yawns and stretches. What the hells time is it? Just gone noon? Yikes. That’s what he gets for spending too much time on the art building roof last night, making out with his uber hot boyfriend, then having to work all through the night to make up time on his shift. To be fair it isn’t exactly all his fault. Sam’s been working all the damn time, then collapsing in bed exhausted. And there was no way he was going to let a whole week slip by without a little hanky, with a heavy side of panky. Today will be different. This weekend will be different. Because Sam turns 28 tomorrow. Yeesh. 28. Sometimes Gabriel forgets how damn young he is. But there are benefits, definitely benefits to the significant age gap between them (just inside his self imposed maximum limits thank you very much). He’s dated older before. Significantly older with… No he’s not going to think about that asshole today of all days. But anyways. Older. Younger. Bang on the same age. And none of them… well with the exception of Kali, but he’s not riding that sorry train of thought either… but none of them were ever really able to keep up with Gabriel’s raging libido.</p><p>Sam… Sam can. Mostly. Gabriel doesn’t know why he is the way he is, but Sam doesn’t see it as a flaw. He revels in it. When he’s capable. And thanks partly to his age and the way he keeps his eye wateringly alluring adonis of a body at peak condition… That’s most of the time. Gabriel has never felt so satisfied, so fulfilled in all his life. And despite Sam having little in the way of experience when they first started dating, he’s shown himself to be somewhat of a sexual prodigy. The things that kid can do with his tongue… his fingers… his giant Moose cock…</p><p>Anyway he digresses. And… He lifts the covers and peers underneath… yes he has managed to give himself some pretty spectacular morning wood. Making a face, he reaches a hand under, trailing it down his naked torso, giving his nipple a little friendly tweak on the way and-</p><p>Wait! No. He stills his hand before it reaches bullseye. No, tonight will be so much sweeter if he holds off, if he forgoes his morning release and lets it build awhile. Right through the surprise birthday gathering at the Roadhouse, right through to lock-up, then right through to the grande finale. Gabriel plans to ring in Sam’s 29th year with spectacular orgasms for them both… and maybe… <em>maybe</em> fulfill a little fantasy he’s been having since… well since they first got together. Sam almost had them there a month prior and hells when he thinks about that particular session… <em>Fuck</em>… He has to forceably remove his hand from the vicinity of his own dick. This is going to be harder than he thought. <em>Definitely</em> harder. No he can’t think about that and he most certainly can’t proceed with his preparations this early in the day. There’s no way he won’t accidentally spill his load, even if he resorted to more than one accessory at a time…</p><p>He sighs and removes his hand from under the bedding, then sighs again at the bulge sticking up from the covers. He raises an eyebrow, cants his hips a little. Hisses in a breath. Maybe not that much. He grabs his cell from the nightstand and brings up the camera. Crap his hair looks like bigbird tried to nest in it. Damn. He quickly runs his hands back through it a few times. Works for Sam. But if anything, he just made matters worse. Nevermind. A little bit of tilting this way and that. Perfect. Look seductive. No not like that. It may smell of sex in here, but definitely not fart. That’s better. He takes a couple of snaps before flopping back down and bringing up his messaging app. Because if he’s going to spend the day this worked up, he’s going to make damn sure Sam does too. </p><p>Satisfied, he sets down his phone and slips out of bed. He thinks about hitting the shower straight away, maybe clean himself out too. But again, it’s a little early for that, and he’s got a few messy tasks ahead of him before leaving the house. So instead he pads over to the neat pile of clothes lying on the top of their laundry basket, selecting a rumpled flannel shirt and pulling it on. He could technically steal a fresh one from the closet, but this way… well he gets to indulge in the delicious scent of his boyfriend. And it’s not like he ever picks the super sweaty ones. That would be gross. He does a couple of buttons up, but leaves the rest. Nobody's home but him. Doesn’t matter if it gets a little breezy down there. Might help take care of his little predicament after all. </p><p>Grabbing his cell, he pads through to the kitchen and prepares himself a little coffee and some breakfast. Since Sam isn’t here to make a face at him, he dumps an extra spoon of sugar in his coffee and sticks a couple of chocolate pop tarts in the toaster. Since he can most definitely picture the massive bitchface that would be directed at him if Sam were here, he concedes to the phantom rebuke and adds a few berries to the side of his plate. He knows he should probably eat at the breakfast bar rather than spread crumbs all over the place, but no… No he’d much rather sojourn to his favorite spot.</p><p>Just as he’s settling into his easychair and taking a first bite, his cellphone vibrates in his lap. That is not… definitely not helping at all. He sets aside his breakfast and picks it up. A reply from Sam. Before he flips it open, he quickly chews and swallows the bite. His time living with Dean-o definitely taught him a thing or two. And oh. Holy cats. That was definitely a good idea. He quickly closes his phone and takes in a few deep breaths. He supposes he deserved that one.</p><p>It takes a good long while to calm himself, and his dick does <em>not</em> look like it’s going into a silent stupor anytime soon. He tries his best to ignore it, settling in and just enjoying his breakfast cum lunch. The sunlight’s streaming in the window, warming his bare skin. It feels good. All sorts of good. And the view. He whistles long and loud. </p><p>Sam’s panel is hanging up just across the room, on the wall supports Jo fitted for Sam to work on larger pieces. Sam may claim it’s still far from finished, that he hasn’t got Gabriel’s sex flushed skintone quite right in places, but… it’s breathtaking. It’s absolutely breathtaking. It’s… Ok that’s decidedly not helping either. Maybe coming in here today wasn’t the best idea after all. Because the image in front of him is not just breathtaking. It’s the single most sexually alluring image he’s ever seen in his life. He glares down at his hard dick. Maybe a cold shower and an accessory after all. Or there’s no way he’s going to get through this day at all. He grimaces at the thought. But needs must, needs must.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam’s cell vibrates in his pocket. They’re just breaking up for lunch, so he wipes the charcoal from his hands as best he can and retrieves the device, flicking it open as he grabs his lunchbox from his bag. He halts abruptly, a somewhat strangled noise escaping from between his lips. <em>Jesus Gabe.</em></p><p>“Everything ok there Noob?”</p><p>Sam quickly closes his phone just as Charlie peers over his shoulder. There’s a little snort of laughter. Any hope that she didn’t catch sight of the image, dies in an instant.</p><p>“I’ll just leave you to it, shall I?”</p><p>Sam sighs and rubs a hand over his face, waiting until the class clears out with the pretense of rummaging in his bag for far longer than’s actually necessary. He’s pretty sure Ellen just threw him an amused look, but thankfully doesn’t make comment. Finally, the fully clothed model slips from the room and he can actually straighten up without embarassing himself. </p><p>“Jesus Gabe,” he mutters into the empty room. </p><p>What the hell is he going to do with this? He sighs, looking down the length of his body at his crotch. </p><p>Well screw it, two can play at that game. He flips open his phone intending to open up his camera app, but of course the damn messaging app is still up. And he can’t look away. Can’t look away from that obviously tented fabric, that’s made all the more prominent by the somewhat enticing hip thrust. The parted lips, the tangled mess of hair. He knows it must be bedhead, but it looks a hell of a lot more like sex hair. The arm stretched behind his head. Arm muscles…  <em>Fuck…. Oh shit</em>. He quickly closes the app and brings up the camera. Biting his lip, he pulls his undershirt from his jeans and undoes the top button, positions the camera. No not quite. He thumbs another button open, and another, until his fly is completely undone. He flushes, eyes darting to the door. Christ if someone comes back for something before lunch is done… better do this quickly. The bulge in his underwear is pretty damn obvious but… maybe... He lifts his shirt up and tucks it under his chin, then pulls the underwear to the side a little so there’s a fair amount of pubic hair showing and just a hint of bare skin. He angles the phone. Ok at this low angle he can actually get a nipple in too… </p><p>Eyes darting to the door once more, he takes a couple of shots before hastily buttoning himself up. He’s sure he looks as dishevelled as hell… and there’s the rather inconvenient and rather obvious outline against his jeans… but it looks like he got away with it. He sits down, grabs something to cover his lap with and sends the message off to Gabriel. Of course there’s a not so inconsiderable chance that this could rapidly escalate, but… he finds that maybe… maybe he’s ok with that. Smiling to himself, he closes his phone and grabs his lunch. Looks like they might be starting his birthday celebrations early.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Gabriel squirms. He pushes sweat damp hair out of his face, smearing flour over his forehead in the process. This is not going well. Not going well at all. He sighs and makes his way over to the sink. That makes him squirm again. And then his hair. Again. Shit. He clenches his jaw. Why the hell would anyone do this to themselves deliberately? Well except in emergies of course. He’s not even sure why he kept the goddamn thing. He only wore it a couple of times for Kali and it was absolutely not an experience he relished repeating. He thinks of just giving in and taking the damn thing off. Have a quick and furious wank session in the bathroom and just get down to business. But… No… He has plans and when he has plans he follows through. He washes his hands quickly and makes a beeline for their room, rummaging in the nightstand to grab a couple of hairties and the barette he bought for… purposes. His hair’s too short for anything as hipster as a manbun, but he finds Sam’s old favorite is not just sexually pleasing, but also kind of handy in a pinch. He hastily ties his hair at either side of his head and secures the floppy bit at the front with the barette. Maybe he can actually get this damn cake made in time. Maybe.</p><p>He starts to make his way back to the kitchen and curses again. No... too goddamn uncomfortable. Ok fine. No pants it is. He hastily sheds the offending material and spares a brief glare at the offending contraption. Kinda looks like a shrink wrapped salami in there. No not quite. His skintone’s way lighter than that. He tilts his head to the side, more like… kielbasa. He snorts out a loud laugh. He stares at it… No he can’t, he really can’t. Or… He raises one eyebrow. His cell is right there on the bed spread. And after what Sam sent him earlier, necessitating the use of this very torture device…</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>It’s getting more and more difficult to concentrate. Every few minutes or so, his cell vibrates in his pocket. How many times is that now? The sound is thankfully muffled sufficiently by the heavy material of his jeans. It’s not disturbing the class… but it is an enormous distraction. Because he can’t help but think… what the hell has Gabriel sent him this time? And that time? And why the hell so many messages? It could quite possibly be just a string of messages asking why he hasn’t replied to the first, but Gabriel knows he’s in life drawing right now. So it can’t be. He swallows, willing his mind not to go there. He should really switch the damn thing off, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to. Because there’s something about the anticipation...</p><p>Sam figured Gabriel had something planned for his birthday tomorrow. He’s been acting kind of furtive, kind of weird. Even more so than usual. It’s pretty clear he’s up to something. But Sam didn’t expect the festivities to start quite so soon. He chances a glance at his watch, sighing in relief as he sees they only have a few minutes more. He just has to get through this. Then he can get somewhere a little more private and find out exactly what’s in store.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Ok so maybe he got carried away. Just a little. Ok, maybe <em>a lot</em>. He scans his eyes over the detrius of their kitchen. Whoops. it's going to be one hell of a clean up. His eyes travel over to the sorry looking, lopsided stack, sitting on the serving platter on the end of the counter. He winces. Not exactly his best work. Not by a long shot. He may have been a little… distracted. It should taste good… ok so he knows it does… what with all the taste testing… and such… He scoops up a blob of frosting and pops it in his mouth, humming around the digit. Damn good. But the presentation? Definitely a little lacking. He supposes that’s what he gets for testing out his piping skills on his own naked chest. Used up way too much of the mixture. Still, he’s most definitely given his Samcakes something to think about. Absolutely. No doubt. </p><p>But time is also running short. He wants to surprise Sam early. Head him off before he can can get into serious nerd mode… as much of a turn on as that is. Drag him along to the Roadhouse and get down to the serious business of celebrating. Of seriously spoiling his boyfriend on his first birthday since they got together. Show him one helluva good time. But first, Gabriel needs to get himself looking a little… ok <em>a lot</em> more presentable. Then it’ll most definitely be time to get this show on the road. </p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>He closes the cubicle door behind him and leans back against the wall. Talk about déjà vu… again. He snorts out a laugh, clasping his hand over his mouth a moment too late. But thankfully it seems that he’s alone. At least for now. For a moment he wishes he had keys to the janitor’s closet like Gabriel. That would definitely afford him a lot more privacy. But he doesn’t. And he’s supposed to be studying a little in the library before meeting Gabriel back here. Not.. here, here. But <em>Christ</em>. He’s starting to think like Gabriel… and he’s starting to think what Gabriel has in store for him. The dark room again? The janitor’s closet? The roof? Fuck he wouldn’t really suggest that would he? The library after hours? Pushing Gabriel up against the stacks and- Where the hell did that thought come from?</p><p>He’s breathing heavily, pulse raising at the very thought. Shit, maybe he really is a giant nerd as his brother keeps on telling him. A kinky nerd, who’s biggest fantasty appears to leading Gabriel into the quietest part they can find... The ancient texts? No that would remind them too much of Cas. Tax law? The PhD theses? Something like that. They’d be kissing passionately, running their hands all over each other’s bodies. Then when Gabriel was suitably needy and desperate and running his mouth off about how he needed to be fucked right this instant, Sam would lift him up, brace him against the stacks, and push right up into that tight heat.</p><p>He closes his eyes, takes in a few slow breaths. He has to get ahold of himself. He hasn’t even seen the images that Gabriel sent him and he’s already this worked up. He can’t exactly afford to let his mind run away from him.  </p><p>Steeling himself, he flicks open the phone. It’s already open at the messaging app, displaying the first of what appears to be several new images. At first glance he doesn’t get it. He stares. Why the hell would Gabriel send him an extreme close up of his lunch? Before even cooking it. A badly focused one at that. It doesn’t make… When he sees it, he almost drops his phone. He fumbles and catches it, selecting and expanding the image in his haste to prevent a cracked screen. And it’s obvious, really damn obvious now. Now that he can see the whole thing instead of just a cropped preview. Now that he can see wild pubic hair and swollen looking… <em>Christ</em>. He stares a hell of a lot more now, his jeans suddenly feeling impossibly tight. He fumbles them open, sighing in relief as his erection springs free of the tight confinement, eyes never leaving his screen. </p><p>Gabriel just sent his first proper dick pic. And not just any damn dick pic. No, of course Gabriel wouldn’t do anything by halves. Sam draws in a shaking breath. It feels… God, he’s not sure he should feel this way… Gabriel claims not to be into anything hardcore. And yet… he just sent Sam a picture of himself wearing a goddamn <em>cock cage</em>. And now Sam’s achingly hard. He sucks in a breath, palming himself a little through his shorts. What the hell is Gabriel playing at?</p><p>And this isn’t the only image. Sam bites his lip, slowly scrolling down. He snorts out a startled laugh, the tension leaving his frame as he takes in Gabriel’s ridiculous expression, damp hair pulled back from his face into two lopsided bunches and a bow barette. He’s sat on the bed, one eyebrow raised, pouting into the camera, naked from the waist down. Well, naked except… <em>God</em>… Although the image is taken from a greater distance, Sam can see it a lot clearer, Gabriel’s cock, trapped inside a clear plastic casing with a slit at the end for urination and… although much of the rest of the contraption is hidden beneath Gabriel’s wild pubic hair, Sam can just see a hint of the plastic ring encircling his cock and swollen balls. Then there’s the little padlock, hanging to the side. <em>Fuck</em>. </p><p>Sam shoves the phone in his pocket for a moment, breathing deeply, running his hands back through his hair. He’s aroused by the image. Really fucking aroused. His mind starts to go places he’s not sure it should. Fucking Gabriel until he’s writhing and senseless and begging for his release. Holding onto those bunches and tugging his head backwards and just fucking him harder.</p><p>Sam freezes. His hand has found his cock, almost of it’s own volition. He swears. Then freezes again, heart hammering in his chest. But his outburst is merely met with silence.</p><p>He takes a few calming breaths, mind reeling. What does it all mean? Would Gabriel want that? Is that why he sent these images? To tease Sam, to give him a hint of what’s to come. Or rather not… He snorts out a loud laugh. That one was definitely on Gabriel. He shakes his head. He’s being ridiculous. Gabriel’s just messing with him, put this on for… Well to do just this. To wind Sam up. Sam’s sure he has no intention of wearing it beyond the little photo shoot he seems to have going on. It means nothing. Well, except that his boyfriend just happens to be an enormous brat.</p><p>Feeling a little more in control himself, Sam retrieves the cell from his pocket, flicking through the remaining images. Definitely an enormous brat, Sam thinks with a heavy sigh as he slowly scrolls through a multitude of shots showing Gabriel in varying stages of undress, making lewd and ridiculous faces and striking equally ridiculous poses. The second to last image shows his now naked chest adored with Happy Birthday Samshine piped in impressively steady letters. It almost looks neater than Gabriel’s normal handwriting. There’s a little piped heart encircling his navel too. One eyebrow raised. He looks utterly, utterly ridiculous. And yet. Sam’s heart skips a beat. He stares his fill before swiping to the final image. His heart catches in his throat. <em>Christ. This.</em> </p><p>Gabriel’s laughing. Laughing at his own ridiculous self. Eyes alight with good humor, dimples adorning the corners of his mouth. It’s utterly, heart stopping beautiful, and… and it’s also more alluring than the rest. That expression, that look of unguarded laughter, those goddamn arousing springy bunches, his own hand smearing the frosting all over his body in an erotic manner, his nipples clearly peaked from the attention… and still there, still clearly in frame… His cock still trapped inside it’s cage.</p><p>Sam swallows. He zooms in on Gabriel’s face. So fucking beautiful. And then he finds himself pulling the focus down until… He bites his lip, draws his erection out of his shorts and starts to stroke himself, eyes fixed on the image of Gabriel’s gorgeous dick, flushed and beautiful and on display. Gabriel unwilling to let himself get properly hard, unwilling to let himself touch it until… until tonight? No fuck, that’s ridiculous. He would never wear that thing all day. Sam groans at the thought.</p><p>“Ooh that sounds like a nasty one,” a disembodied voice jars him forcibly from his thoughts. </p><p>He bites back a panicked yell, almost fumbling his phone in the process. It comes out as the most horrendous strangled noise. Sam bites his lip hard. He lets go of his dick in a hurry, the loss of contact making him throb almost painfully. <em>Fuck fuck fuck fuck</em>. He curses himself for being so damn stupid. Then he curses Gabriel for sending the goddamn images in the first place. He must have known what the hell would happen. Must have known that Sam wouldn’t be able to control himself.</p><p>“You ok in there?”</p><p>Sam winces, tries to stop himself from breathing so goddamn heavily. “Uh… yeah.” He winces again as his voice comes out sounding a lot more high pitched than he meant it to.</p><p>“Too much hotsauce on your chimichangas?” The voice sounds sympathetic, though definitely amused. </p><p>Sam just wishes to hell they’d go away, because whether they’ve cottoned on to the real reason for his predicament or not, this has got to be one of the most painfully awkward exchanges of his life. His eyes catch on the image still showing on his screen. It’s gone back to full screen, his utterly ridiculous, painfully erotic boyfriend in all his naked glory. He shakes his head, a small smile spreading across his lips as he makes his wavering reply.</p><p>“Uh… something like that…” </p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>He draws in a breath through his nose, his steps faltering. He can do this. Just one step in front of the other. </p><p>Cassie’s going to pick up the cake, such as it is. Though he made several colorful complaints about the whole matter. Gabriel was almost tempted to tell him exactly why he could not in fact carry the damn cake over himself, but honestly, his brother is too used to his shit. He would have probably just given another long suffering sigh, or chastised him, or given him the <em>you do not have to do these things to impress Sam, he loves you dearly</em> speech. And Gabriel would have just rolled his eyes and done it anyway. So he made his excuses. Or rather made them up. A little. It does hurt a bit. Just in his balls. Not his back. Details. Cassie was a little suspicious of course, but with a fair bit of whining on Gabriel’s part, he relented. With a heavy sigh of course. There was another heavy sigh when Gabriel asked him to bring the holdall and package beside it also. But he mercifully refrained from prying. </p><p>All he needs to do… Is get to Sam… Distract him from his studies… Make it nigh on impossible to concentrate and…. And bring. He stops and takes in a few deep breaths. God. God his balls feel like two huge billiard balls hanging there in his oversensitive sack. Packed with explosives. That doesn’t make any sense. No sense at all. He’s just about to tentatively resume his journey when his cell vibrates in his pocket. He clenches his jaw tight. No he’s not ok, not ok at all. By random happenstance he’s damn near the library rest rooms. He dips in and makes a beeline for the cubicle, sighing in relief as he opens his slacks and eases them down his hips. </p><p>He whistles long and low. Just look at those bad boys. Tonight is going to be explosive as all hells. It’ll be worth it. Definitely worth it. He’s almost tempted to take a shot. Maybe just for posterity, probably to send to Sam. His whole, ‘I’ll never send a dick pic mantra’ has kind of taken a flying leap out of a nearby window and flattened itself on the pavement below. Who the hell cares. This is Sam. Light of his life; Lay of his life. And. Ooh that reminds him. The oh so distracting buzz, that just sent jolts of need to his heavily aching groin. Right. He leans back and eases the cell from his jacket pocket.</p><p>He brings up the app. </p><p>“That giant dick!” He yells, almost dropping his cell in the john as his own dick valiantly attempts to go from zero to hero in 2 seconds flat and fails entirely, instead sending his nerve endings alight in all sorts of horrifically unpleasant ways.</p><p>There’s a snigger from outside the cubicle wall. Gabriel had been so wrapped up in his huge groin shaped drama that he hadn’t noticed anyone enter.</p><p>“You keep telling yourself that man.”</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes. He resists the urge to fling open the door and engage in some sort of mexican dickoff. After all, he’s not entirely sure that his shrink wrapped deli meat and enormous swollen balls are going to be impressing anyone right now. He half heartedly flips off the the still sniggering disembodied voice, picturing just how tiny the asshole’s dick must be as he takes a piss and leaves without washing his hands. Gabriel makes a face. Yeesh. Some people have no clue about personal hygiene.</p><p>At least his groin has gone back to a mild background throb, instead of the all consuming need he felt earlier. Before he even saw that image. Just from his goddamn slacks rubbing over the sensitized flesh. No, can’t think about that image. Can’t think of that glorious bitchface, can’t think about the huge hand wrapped around one enormous throbbing… Ah crap. Throbbing. He’s definitely back to throbbing. He growls. Not caring one bit if anyone hears him. He only cares about one thing. Payback. </p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ!”</p><p>Sam flushes bright red, giving awkward stuttered apologies to the students who are giving him a wide berth, looking at him like he’s completely lost his mind. And he supposes he has. He really has. </p><p>Sam knew it would get out of hand, absolutely knew it. Because with Gabriel, it’s always the damn same. He takes in a deep breath and rubs a hand over his face. He can’t work like this. He really can’t. He’s going to have to give the library a miss and head right home. Give in to that impulse. Fuck Gabriel into the goddamn mattress until he’s begging to come. And maybe he’ll hold off until it’s just the right side of bearable. Just. He shakes his head. Who the hell is he kidding? That picture confirmed it all. That expression. The promise in those honey gold eyes. What Gabriel had once jokingly referred to as the Dom brow as he made fun of their brother’s long drawn out eye-make-out session. Cas is an expert, but Gabriel’s not far behind. Gabriel won’t be the one begging, Sam will. His boyfriend may be the one in the cage and yet it’s so very obvious that he holds every key.</p><p>Sam swallows, blood rushing swiftly south. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s ok with that, more than ok.</p><p>He takes a few more deep breaths, trying to center himself, letting his eyes drift over to the student notice board. Something, anything to distract him from… He almost chokes on his own tongue. He blinks his eyes a few times. Maybe he even pinches his own arm. It’s the most ridiculous cliché, and yet apparently it’s true. Gabriel has driven him so crazy, that he’s seeing the man around every corner, or rather… absurdly, plastered all over the student notice board. </p><p>He steps over on shaking legs. This can’t be… Except it is, somehow it’s ludicrously true. He stares at the plethora of stickers, the same face staring back at him. No not staring. Smoldering. Lips curled upwards on one side, adorned with the most utterly ridiculous porn tash he’s ever seen. He stares. Still unable to comprehend exactly what he’s seeing… a sea of rainbow stickers, plastered over what looks like… some pretty awful homophobic shit. But someone or someone’s have thought to cover it all up. With an image that Sam never though he’d see outside his laptop, and maybe admittedly a fair few of his darker fantasies. His boyfriend. From far before they met. Or rather, his badly accented, exceedingly flexible and vivacious porn persona, T.Rickster. Each sticker proclaiming that his ridiculous and yet bafflingly alluring boyfriend has <em>the kielbasa you ordered</em>.</p><p>Sam stares at the images for a moment, before he fumbles for his cell. That damn image is still on screen. But under it a message.</p><p>
  <em>Change of plans. Roadhousse. 7. </em>
</p><p>Sam stares at his phone. The pit drops out of his stomach. Did Gabriel come here early, take one look at the noticeboard, and freak the hell out? Did he… did he run?</p><p>Sam feels the panic start to drag him under. He closes his eyes and takes a few long deep breaths until he can feel it edging away. No, he’s being ridiculous. Gabriel wouldn’t do that. Not again. The last minute change and the abrupt tone are all just part of some elaborate plan to put Sam on edge. To keep him wondering. And there’s no need to bring this… this <em>craziness</em> up just yet. He’ll wait until he sees Gabriel in person. And he will, damn it. Gabriel will be there. For now he needs to go home. Sort his shit out. Try not to spoil what he’s sure Gabriel plans to be pretty damn good night. He can bring this subject up later. Everything’s fine. Everything will be fine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't worry, I won't keep you as on edge as Gabriel and Sam for long. The next chapter will be up tomorrow.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam's birthday celebrations continue...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter also known as, Dean is a massive cock blocker and Luke is a great big bag of dicks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>GABRIEL</p><p>Of course it would be Lucy. Of all the fine assholes who work here it would be Lucy. That would find him. A good 20 minutes after his half shift was due to start. Locked in the storeroom. With a pack of iced root vegetables shoved down the front of his pants. Of course it would be. And now… now he’ll never live it down.</p><p>He hears another snigger, glares over to see his brother leaning casually over the bar, talking to some half cut girl in a crop top and leather pants. They look in his direction. The girl giggles, Lucy gives a knowing smile before yelling over the background chatter. </p><p>“Was it a parsnip or a carrot little brother? I can’t recall?” </p><p>Gabriel takes in a breath through his nose, trying to stop himself from adjusting himself again under their scrutiny. Lucy’s been telling everyone that will listen, that he didn’t so much catch his brother with his literal pants down, desperately trying to deflate his oversensitive balls with a pack of frozen vegetables, but rather that he caught his brother on his knees on the storeroom floor, trying his very best to insert one where the sun don’t shine. He’s been called various colorful forms of the endearment <em>vegetable fucker</em> all shift long. </p><p>His lips are curving up into a wide smirk. He’s just about to open his mouth and suggest that it was in fact a nice big juicy fat marrow, when Benny sidles past, giving Lucy a reproachful look and Gabriel one that he’s sure means for him to take pause and consider his socio-moral choices. Like he’s a third grader. He rolls his eyes heavenwards.</p><p>“You know if you play along, he’s just gonna keep on winding you up something fierce. Take no notice and he’ll tire of it soon enough.”</p><p>Gabriel’s just about to make a scathing retort, when the staff door swings open, Jo eyeing them all suspiciously. </p><p>“I would ask, but I’m pretty sure I really don’t want to know.”</p><p>“You don’t,” Benny replies, walking back over to the other side of the bar.</p><p>Lucy opens his mouth, but shuts it with a snap as Benny cuffs him on the back of the head on the way past. Gabriel’s too damned busy laughing his head off to call him on his bullshit moral fortitude. </p><p>It’s probably why he doesn’t notice, too damned distracted by his brother’s ridiculous whiny face, by Benny’s soft rumbling chuckle. The only warning he gets is a swift elbow in his ribs. He turns to glare at Jo, but there are suddenly hands reaching over the bar, grabbing onto him, drawing him near. He lets out a startled yelp, canting his hips backwards to avoid an unfortunate bar-groin collision. Then he chuckles as Sam’s lips descend on his, hands threading back into his hair. <em>Woa Bucko, that is some kind of needy.</em> Except… That whine in the back of Sam’s throat, that doesn’t sound… He pulls back, searching Sam’s eyes. There’s need there, definitely. But more than that… relief? Relief at what?</p><p>“Hey Kiddo…”</p><p>Before he can get it out, before he can ask what the hell’s going on, Sam’s whole demeanor changes. He’s leaning into him, hissing into his ear. </p><p>“You complete and utter asshole. My balls feel like they’re on fire and I almost got caught masturbating in the goddamn restrooms.”</p><p>Gabriel’s eyes just about pop out of his sockets. Sure he figured… Sam sent him a pretty telling visual after all. But to hear it out loud? To hear that he almost got caught? And hells is that an… an appropriate choice of words. All worries are forgotten as all thoughts turn southwards. </p><p>“Come again?” He babbles. </p><p>Oh great choice of words there. Great. Sam chuckles softly in his ear. He can feel the heat of his breath against his earlobe. Imagine Sam drawing the sensitive flesh into his mouth. </p><p>“You know exactly what you did. You think I’m gonna let you get away with that?”</p><p>Oh hells. <em>Hells</em>. He reaches down and pulls the long hem of his shirt further down over his crotch. It feels like his balls just expanded to the size of watermelons. Of lava. There’s no way that people won’t see. He feels his cheeks flare bright red. He draws a long breath through his nose.</p><p>“Kettle. Black. Jerry Lee Lewis,” Gabriel hisses back</p><p>Sam draws back, gives him a look, eyes widening comically.</p><p>“You’re not…”</p><p>It’s all Sam gets out before an arm is slung over his shoulder, Dean-o’s face splitting into a wide smile. “Purple Nurples all round?” </p><p>Sam groans, turning to face his brother. “Dude no.” Cas appears at his elbow, tutting and shaking his head. Gabriel can see Charlie, Natalie and Kevin just arrived. The door almost swings shut in Chuck’s face behind him, but Becky catches it with a surprisingly ninja like move, beaming at the smile that her boyfriend directs towards her. Benny steps forward to serve Dean-o as Gabriel takes a shuffling step backwards.</p><p>The spell is broken, yet Gabriel’s balls have yet to catch the memo. Holy cats is it hot in here.</p><p>Jo sidles up to him giving him a disturbingly knowing look. He opens his mouth and shuts it again with a snap as she holds up a hand. </p><p>“I meant what I said. I really don’t wanna know. You want me to take over early? Give you a chance to deal with…” She makes a face and shakes her head, “whatever the hell that was all about.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” The disturbing squeak in his voice belies the truth. She raises an eyebrow. He clears his throat. “Ah yes. Yes please.”</p><p>Sam’s eyes follow him as he makes his way through the staff door. Gabriel thinks for a moment that Sam’s going to stride in after him, that he’s going to be bowled over any second now by a horny charging Moose. But his brother waylays him, presses a goddamn purple nurple into his hand. Gabriel rolls his eyes. Damn it Dean-o, if he gets his brother drunk that will seriously spoil all Gabriel’s plans. </p><p>But he can’t think about that. Not right now. He makes a beeline for the storeroom, opening his pants on the way. A moment later he sighs in blissful relief as he slumps to the ground with a pack of frozen peas stuffed down the front of his pants. Wrapped hastily in kitchen roll of course, because there’s no way he’s getting freeze burned balls. No way, José.</p><p>~~~</p><p>It’s great. It’s all great. They’re surrounded by all their friends. They have cake. Everyone looked a little unimpressed by his marvellous creation, but soon slid into appreciative moans when they took a bite. Cassie’s looking at Dean-o like he might want to draw them outside, maybe get all hot n steamy in the back of the Impala. Gabriel doesn’t exactly blame him, because the noises that are coming out of his mouth? Hells. If that was his boyfriend? As it is, it’s making Gabriel squirm uncomfortably in his seat. It’s making Becky squirm too. Gabriel thinks that maybe he’s going to be seeing some side ships going on in her next adventure. He makes a face at the thought. Much as he jokes about it, he really doesn’t want to read about his little bro fucking Sam’s big bro. Or vice versa, or any sexual act at all. The eye-fucking gets uncomfortable enough at times.</p><p>Gabriel looks hastily away, eyes catching on Sam. He’s listening to Kevin relate some anecdote or another. Sam’s smiling at the right parts, nodding every now and then, even as Kevin stumbles over his words, even as he goes off on random tangents that bear no relation to the story whatsoever. But Gabriel can see through it. Something’s off. Something’s wrong.</p><p>Charlie interjects, Kevin turns and smiles at her, happy to let her take over the story. Happy that she’s finally joining in. Because Charlie’s been subdued as well. Uncharacteristically so. Natalie too. At least he thinks he knows why in this instance. Their LGBT group have been under some heavy fire lately, thanks to Zachy and his minions. Gabriel’s tries to do his best from the sidelines with his sharpie in hand but… But he doesn’t want to get heavily involved. He supposes that makes him somewhat of a coward, but well… He’s had enough of Zachy’s shit to last him a lifetime and more. And he’s pretty damn sure that it’s exactly what Zachy wants. To draw him into the fray… But other people are getting caught in the crossfire. His friends. Maybe it’s time he got off his ass and actually tried to help. He swallows, set in his resolve.</p><p>Sam makes his excuses and rises to his feet, making his way over to the jukebox. Gabriel may not be able to help his friends right now, but he can sure as shit find out what’s eating Sam. And maybe, just maybe, save this lacklustre celebration before it slumps any further into mundanity.</p><p>He tries his damndest to walk normally, to pretend that he doesn’t have two heavy pendulums swinging between his legs. But he’s pretty sure it’s not working very well. That his natural bow legged gait has reached level’s worthy of Dean-o. He’s also pretty sure that Becky’s cottoned on. He can feel her gaze on him, can hear Chuck make a valiant and yet utterly vain attempt to catch her attention. Hoo boy are those fanfics going to be getting kinky and they’re already plenty kinky enough.</p><p>Sam glances up as Gabriel approaches, a small awkward smile twitching the corners of his lips upwards, before turning his attention back to his selections. Something’s up. And it’s definitely not Gabriel’s dick. As casually as he can, which is not at all, Gabriel props himself against the jukebox. </p><p>“Are you going  to tell me what’s eating you or am I gonna have to pull a Vader and get probing? With my mind. Mind probe. Not…” He waves makes a few illustrative gestures in the air.</p><p>That was smooth. Oh so smooth. But Sam turns his attention fully towards him, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. Then his face falters and he bites his lip. After a beat, Sam seems to come to some decision and he takes hold of Gabriel’s arms. Gabriel stands up a little straighter. This doesn’t look good. Doesn’t look good at all. He feels a thrill of fear, worming it’s way through his being. Is… is Sam breaking up with him? His heart starts to thunder against his ribcage, his mouth suddenly very dry. No. No that can’t happen. Surely…</p><p>“I um… I need to talk to you.”</p><p>Oh crap. Oh crap. Was it the pictures? Did he go too far? Too kinky? Sam’s a pretty kinky kid himself. But maybe not as kinky as Gabriel is… which is very. Or was it something completely different… Did Sam go home and see the devastation Gabriel left in the kitchen? Was it the fact he wore the same pair of socks three days running last week?</p><p>But Sam’s hand is drifting to his wrist, fingers edging under the fabric to feel the cuff beneath. And it dawns on Gabriel. Or rather it slaps him right smack bang between his stupid eyes. Sam is reassuring himself. He’s not thinking of leaving. He was worried Gabriel would. Because he changed plans? Because his last message was a little too curt? He was kind of wrestling with ye olde cock and balls dilemma, not thinking about such complicated things as sentence structure. Fuck. Why would he… why would he think that…?</p><p>Before Gabriel can begin to think of a way to provide that reassurance, Sam speaks up. And it’s not what he expected. Not what he expected at all.</p><p>He stares a moment. Then he bursts into raucous laughter. Oh God that actually hurts. He clutches his stomach, bending over and crap crap crap. That hurts a hell of a lot more. He hisses in a breath, lungs burning almost as much as his balls. </p><p>“Gabe…” Sam’s gone from bitchface to worried again.</p><p>Gabriel hiccups, sniffs, tries to catch his composure. But it’s too damn funny. Sam thought he’d what? Freaked out about the stickers? Done another runner. Hells that’s a good one.</p><p>“Sorry,” he chokes out after a few hiccuping attempts. “Hells kiddo no need to blast me with the puppy dog eyes.”</p><p>“You knew already…” Sam says carefully.</p><p>Gabriel straightens up, shrugs a shoulder. “Uh yeah. Couldn’t exactly miss my beautiful face, plastered all over campus. How the hells did you miss it this long? Honestly, I’m not sure if I should be offended or not.”</p><p>“I’ve been busy Gabe,” he says with a heavy sigh. But Gabriel can tell that a lot of the tension that was holding his body taught, has gone. “I thought… I thought it would bother you more. Do you know who...?”</p><p>He trails off as Gabriel shrugs his shoulders. “Uh no. Nope. Nein. I’m not ashamed. Why the hells should I be?”</p><p>Sam leans forward quickly and kisses him on the forehead. Gabriel lets out a satisfied hum. </p><p>“I was… before I was worried about how you’d react… All that crap from the yester year. But now I know you’re ok with it… What anyone else thinks? It’s all so much noise. As for the who did the dirty with the candle stick in the Billiard room… My money’s on Miss Scarlet.” </p><p>He raises an eyebrow and gestures over to the table where Becky is utterly failing to hide the fact that she was staring dreamily over at their exchange.</p><p>Sam lets out a little laugh and shakes his head, grabbing hold of Gabriel’s arm and turning his focus away.</p><p>“I don’t think I’ll take that bet,” he says with a quirk of his lips, hands coming up to frame his face. </p><p>Gabriel sucks in a breath as Sam leans down. He rises up onto the balls of his feet, ignoring the insistant throb in his groin, meeting Sam halfway and deepening the kiss.</p><p>“Will you two quit macking on each other and put something decent on?”</p><p>Gabriel glares daggers at Dean-o as he barrels feet first into yet another moment. But a beat later he doesn’t mind so much. When he sees the matching look of annoyance on Sam’s face swiftly morph into a happy smile. They may have to wait it out to find that moment again, but in the meantime, surrounded by friends, surrounded by family, Gabriel’s going to make sure that Sam has a good time. The best pre-birthday celebration of all time. And later when they’re finally all alone, he’s gonna make it one helluva a night. A night to remember for years to come.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam feels elated. This is the best present that Gabriel could ever have given him. Especially since Sam had insisted on no presents at all. Stating that the studio was enough. Knowing that Gabriel spent more than he should have buying furniture and getting it all set up for him. So Gabriel found another way to surprise him. And it’s more perfect than any physical gift would ever be. It’s the best birthday celebration he can ever remember having. Surrounded by family, with Gabriel by his side. </p><p>Well most of the time. He disappeared into the staff area several long minutes ago, making some excuse about needing to relieve himself, somewhat more colorfully expressed. But Sam gets the impression that he’s doing something altogether different… Preparing yet another surprise.</p><p>He swallows, shifting somewhat uncomfortably in his seat. Sitting next to Gabriel all this time has been hard enough. He almost snorts out a laugh at that, coughing and taking another sip of his beer to cover. Dean gives him an odd look, but honestly he’s not sure how Dean can actually string two thoughts together at the moment. He’s thus far attempted to ply Sam with several different shots, but Gabriel keeps on intervening. Showing him that eyebrow. And Dean, making a face, has shrugged his shoulders before downing the shots himself. Cas is going to have a fun night. </p><p>Sam’s glad. He doesn’t want it to be like the first time, or what should have been the first time, but was delayed because Sam was almost too damn drunk to stand. </p><p>He’s also kind of glad that Gabriel has pretty much remained in his seat, because if he had tried the usual… if he had attempted to sit in Sam’s lap… Sam swallows again, feeling his cheeks flush. Thankfully his brother’s too busy making somewhat bleary eyes at Cas to notice this time. As it is, everytime Gabriel has shifted in his seat, every time he's stretched his arms out in exuberance, causing the hem of his shirt to lift up, awarding Sam with just a glimpse of an outline… Sam has found himself getting more and more worked up. He’s sure that Gabriel wore those pants because they’re a little looser, because the fabric’s a little softer… but <em>Christ</em>, they also hide absolutely nothing. Sam has often found his eyes wandering whenever Gabriel wears them. He’s sure Gabriel’s noticed. Maybe that’s half the point.</p><p>He takes another sip of beer, hoping the cool liquid will somehow dampen down his flaming cheeks, but he almost chokes on the liquid. Because Gabriel has just emerged from the staff door. And there’s no doubt in his mind. No doubt at all what Gabriel just did. It’s there in the half glazed, half heated look in his eyes, there in the sweat springing up on his forehead and the spreading dark circles under his arms, there in the way he’s taking the most ridiculously weaving, halting journey back to their table.</p><p>Chuck pats him on the back, looking concerned for a moment before following his eyes over to his friend. He makes a high pitched squeaking noise in the back of his throat before he stutteringly suggests that it’s time they called it a night. It’s near closing time and everyone agrees, many with equally bemused and mildly disturbed looks on their faces. Except Becky who looks like she’s reluctant to leave at all. Dean leans into his side drunkenly and wishes him a happy birthday… before winkining and saying that he’s sure Gabriel’s got that covered.</p><p>“Sock on the door Sammy,” he slurs, far too loud. Sam’s pretty sure Luke heard, way over at the bar, judging by the knowing smirk that crosses his features.</p><p>Sam would wish that he could die right there and then, that the world would open up and swallow him whole. Except his eyes have just travelled back to Gabriel and there’s no way he would miss a moment of this. No way in the world. </p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>The wait is agonising. Literally. Gabriel spends several long moments glaring at the hangers on until they become so uncomfortable that they leave. All the time sat across from Sam. Waiting. Silent. On edge. On edge more than he’s ever felt before. And then his asshole brother takes forever clearing up. He’s doing it deliberately, the fucker. It would be obvious even if he didn’t keep on laughing and smirking. Even if he didn’t saunter over to stick on the jukebox. Great Balls of Fire. Funny, really fucking funny. Gabriel flips him off, then he goes back to hunching over the table trying not to squirm too much at the chorus. He will not, absolutely will not give his brother the satisfaction. </p><p>After that one, Jo at least takes pity, smacking luke over the back of the head with a dishcloth and dragging his ass out the door with a muttered, ‘you better damn well clear up properly Gabe’, the threat of swift and lethal retributution should he not comply, hanging in the air.</p><p>And then they’re alone. They stare at each other a moment. Gabriel’s not sure what they’re waiting for. Maybe for the song to come to an end. Maybe to make damned sure that big broster won’t make an untimely reappearance. But then there’s silence, except for the sounds of their steady breaths. </p><p>He can’t bear it for a minute more. Gabriel gets up too quickly. The room spins, and for one moment he thinks he’s going to face plant and knock himself out on the table, and all this will be over before it’s begun. But then Sam’s there, arms tightening about his forearms. He takes a breath or two, lets Sam hold him while he finds his equilibrium and then he’s stepping backwards, careful not to trip over his own damned feet. He steps over to the bar and dips elegantly beneath it. Ok he doesn’t. He staggers over, almost trips over the step up, almost lifts the flap up into his own face and then he maybe gets the urge to hide. A little. Yeesh this was supposed to be sexy, but he’s a mess. He hastily sheds his clothes, pulling on the hidden toga as best he can in the enclosed space. He almost hits his head again. He definitely jars his elbow. He hisses in a breath.</p><p>“Gabe?” A shadow looms across the floor before him. </p><p>Talk about déjà vu. He chuckles.</p><p>“Ah… babe are you ok?”</p><p>Gabriel takes a breath in through his nostrils. Sam rarely calls him something other than Gabe, Gabriel or on oft occasion, <em>Jesus Gabe</em>. He likes it, he really likes it.</p><p>“Just a… costume change… my Samilicious,” he stutters out. </p><p>Well that was sexy, real sexy. </p><p>He clasps the toga at his shoulder and runs his hands through his hair. It’s already starting to clump together in sweaty lumps. He makes a frustrated noise.</p><p>“Babe?”</p><p>Again. Hells. He’s not going to last, not going to last at all. He pulls his toga up and takes one longing last look at his aching dick and throbbing balls. Better… better keep it on. At least for a little while.</p><p>He thumps his head on the underside of the bar. Of course he does. Curses, stumbles, hisses out a breath as the motion sets off a kaledoscope of sensation deep inside him. But strong arms have him. Holding him up yet again. He could weep. He does. A little. Sam makes a deep growling noise in the back of his throat, then he lets go briefly, but only long enough to vault over the bar in the most ludicrously sexy way imaginable. That’s not helping, not helping at all. And then those arms are back, holding on to his forearms, worried eyes searching his face.</p><p>“You still… you still have it on?”</p><p>Sam sounds both incredulous and… oh he’s definitely turned on, even if he’s trying to hide it. Gabriel nods his head.</p><p>Sam sucks in a breath. “Jesus Gabe, you really did keep it on all day.” Gabriel raises one sweaty eyebrow and nods his head again. “For… for me?”</p><p>Gabriel starts to nod his head, but he halts the motions halfway through and rolls his eyes heavenwards. “No I did it for fun, Sam. Because balls full of molten lava? That’s just my jam.”</p><p>Sam looks like he doesn’t know whether to look at him endearingly or throw him a bitchface. He settles for a furrowed brow. </p><p>“I couldn’t control myself ok!” Gabriel steps back far enough that he doesn’t feel Sam’s body heat anymore, because that was likely to start off a chain reaction at the slightest spark. And the sparks are flying, definitely flying. “Kept on thinking what I wanted you to do to me. But I thought… Hells, why not wait? It’ll be all the sweeter if I hold off. And then you sent me that picture Sam.” </p><p>He glares up at Sam’s bemused face. </p><p>“You started it,” Sam snorts out. “And then you sent me a goddamn dick pic Gabriel. Several.”</p><p>Gabriel huffs out an annoyed breath. He hates it when Sam’s right. He did start it. He took it too far. It’s all true. Doesn’t make it any less enfuriating.</p><p>“Let me take care of you, Gabe… you need to… just let me take care of you.”</p><p>Gabriel swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. He hesitates and then he reaches down for the hem of his toga, lifting it upwards, slowly revealing what lies beneath.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gabriel will get his release, I promise! Just gotta format it. See you in a few...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam finally receives his gift...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Smut, smut, smutty, smut, smut</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SAM</p><p>Sam’s breath catches in his throat. He feels a thrill deep inside him. He shouldn’t feel this way, he really shouldn’t. <em>Fuck</em>. Gabriel’s leaning leavily back against the bar, eyes closed and head tilted back and to the side a little, hair falling softly across his forehead, holding the hem of the toga well above his waist. His breath is coming in hitches, abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching before Sam’s eyes, his crotch bobbing up and down with every stuttered breath.  </p><p>He looks beautiful. Heart stoppingly, erotically beautiful. Beautiful and needy and on display and holding back, holding himself back for Sam. It must be painful at this point. Sam realises that, can see that in the flush about his trapped cock, fully aroused yet unable to get fully erect, in the unnatural swell of his sack. And yet… He did it still. And there’s something about that… something about that, that sets the fire in the pit of his belly ablaze. He steps forwards tentatively and reaches out, drawing his finger down the clear plastic shell. It feels hot to the touch. Sam somehow didn’t expect that, but of course Gabriel’s body heat has permeated the material thoroughly. Gabriel shivers as though he can feel the phantom touch through the layer separating them. Sam moves carefully, telegraphing every move, making sure not to touch Gabriel’s over sensitized balls… even if he so desperately wants to. He carefully lifts his length, holding it in the palm of his hand. He could dip a finger into the opening, but something tells him that that would be far too much. Instead he just feels the weight of it, for the moment. Gabriel’s big for his height, even like this, beautifully proportioned and shaped. It feels strange to do this. He rarely gets the chance. For a moment after release, hot and sticky and too worn out to pay much heed. And at other times, it’s so momentary, Gabriel filling so quickly, swelling so beautifully at his touch.</p><p>He can feel Gabriel’s impatience. He stays silent, but he’s held taut like a dam that’s fit to burst. Taking the hint, Sam’s fingers move to the small gold padlock hanging to the side.</p><p>“Gabe?”</p><p>Gabriel’s eyelids flutter open. “Wha’s that Samiliciousness?” he drawls. He sounds drunk, though he’s barely touched a drop.</p><p>Endorphins, Sam’s mind supplies. He shakes his head to clear it. He needs to focus on the task at hand. “Where’s the key?”</p><p>Gabriel makes a face, pouting like he can’t quite wrap his head around the simplest of questions. “Pants?” he finally supplies</p><p>Sam grimaces. He hopes to hell that Gabriel hasn’t accidentally lost them like the last time with the cuffs. The last thing they need is a trip to the E.R. to have Gabriel cut out of this thing. He lets go reluctantly, bending down and rummaging in Gabriel’s pockets, trying his very best not to be too distracted by Gabriel’s crotch, far too temptingly close to his face. He almost doesn’t find it, it’s so small his fumbling fingers miss it on the first pass. But finally, sighing in relief, he draws back, climbing to feet that feel far too unsteady to bear his weight. </p><p>He fumbles the lock twice. Gabriel’s starting to come round by the third time, mind clearing from the endorphin rich haze almost soon enough to mock Sam for his incompetence, but the key finally engages, the key finally turns. He removes the lock and just stares. He’s not sure what he expected. For Gabriel to explode out of it as soon as the lock was gone?</p><p>Gabriel chuckles, voice sounding deep and throaty, if a little breathless. “Hells Sam it’s not a cocoon. My dick aint gonna push it’s way out and emerge a beautiful butterfly.”</p><p>Sam laughs and shakes his head, tension that he didn’t know was holding in melting away at Gabriel’s ridiculousness once more. “Did you just compare your dick to one of the most elegant creatures in all of existence?” </p><p>Gabriel pouts his lips together, nods his head sagely. “Yes. Yes I did.”</p><p>Sam snorts out a loud laugh, but he ignores Gabriel’s mock offended face, reaching out and examining the contraption, trying to figure out how to remove it. Gabriel rolls his eyes after a beat, his own hand moving to Sam’s, showing him the fastenings, all the while giving vaguely patronizing instructions. Sam ignores it, focusing on the task at hand, removing the pieces until all that remains is the ring encircling Gabriel’s cock and balls. Gabriel cries out in relief as his abused cock finally fills fully with his lifeblood, lengthening and swelling at record speed, precome starting to bead at the tip. Sam watches the rapid metamorphosis in awe, watches as Gabriel leans back against the bar again, panting heavily. Sam finds himself completely mesmerized by the sight.</p><p>“Cock ring,” Gabriel stutters out.</p><p>Sam startles at the sound. Just how long has he been staring? He feels his cheeks flushing.</p><p>“No Sam. Don’t that’s. Fuck. Your face. You take this thing off and I’m gonna take your eye out.” His eyes dart up to the bottles on the top shelf. “Hells, I think I could take out half the fancy schmancy gin.”</p><p>Sam’s eyebrows raise. Gabriel rolls his eyes.</p><p>“You’re killing me kiddo. Yeesh. Need a cock ring or this show’ll be over before we hit the opening credits. Kapische?” He snaps his fingers in the air and gestures under the bar.</p><p>It doesn’t take Sam long to find the holdall Gabriel stashed under there. The holdall full of… ‘supplies’.</p><p>“Jesus Gabe.” </p><p>It escapes him before he can hold it back because… <em>Jesus</em>. Sam doesn’t even know what half this stuff is.</p><p>Gabriel makes an impatient noise. “I’m a boy scout Sam. Always come prepared.”</p><p>Sam spares a moment to look at him incredulously. He has never seen anyone look less like a boy scout in all his life. Gabriel rolls his eyes again.</p><p>“Front pocket Sam. In your own sweet time. It’s not like my balls are set to detonate at any given moment. Set to take out the whole of Jericho in one massive thermo nuclear explosion.”</p><p>It’s not like his boyfriend is by far the most dramatic person he’s ever met… He laughs and shakes his head, opening the front pocket and quickly finding the rubber ring.</p><p>Gabriel swallows as he draws nearer, pupils dilating until only narrow bands of molten gold are visible. Sam doesn’t ask if he’s ready, he knows the reply would be caustic enough to cause a terminal wound. Instead he tears his attention from Gabriel’s face, reaches out and quickly and carefully undoes the clasps at either side, removing the two halfs of the ring. Watching as precome oozes copiously from the tip.</p><p>“Cock ring Sam. Cock ring. Jesus fuck.”</p><p>Gabriel clutches at his biceps desperately, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. Sam swallows and carefully takes Gabriel in hand, slipping the cock ring down to the base in one rapid motion, as Gabriel pants heavily into his shoulder, shaking so hard that Sam’s afraid he’s going to fall apart.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Everything’s in place. It’s perfect. Well except the sweat. He was hoping to be all saucy minx Angel rather than dripping wet beast from the depths. He’s a mess. But judging by the look on Sam’s face… a hot mess? At least the wings are perfect, not the beddraggled mess they somewhat bespoiled the last time around. Sam bought him two new pairs. One like the last, and a smaller, neater pair. He chose the latter of the two. If this goes the way he hopes it will… and it will… he gave Sam some pretty specific instructions… and while Sam just blinked at him with his mouth hanging open, it was pretty clear that he’d follow through. Suffice to say, those giant wings would have gotten in the way. Sam would have been inhaling feathers up his nostrils as he tried to take Gabriel from behind. Way too distracting. These are better. Much better. </p><p>He takes in a deep breath through his nose. Show time.</p><p>“Let me grab you that drink,” Gabriel drawls, eyes fixed on Sam sitting at their table, long legs spread wide beneath the surface.</p><p>Sam merely nods his head. <em>Yeesh kiddo, this isn’t a silent movie</em>. Gabriel hopes he gets a little more vocal or this won’t be nearly as satisfying as it should be. Nevermind. He turns around and reaches up on his tiptoes, making a show of stretching as far as he can reach, feeling the fabric of the toga rise right up to the bottom of his cheeks. Enjoying the audible hitch in Sam’s breath. Of course it’s just for show. He can’t hope to grab the bottle this way. After a beat, he lets out a faux frustrated breath, muttering to himself as he bends over and pulls the stepstool over. He frowns as he hears the screech of wood on wood, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Sam has pushed himself away from the table, but he hasn’t made any move to rise. He’s playing ball, or rather… he’s playing with his balls. Gabriel almost chuckles, but he doesn’t want to break the spell.</p><p>Instead he gets up on the step stool, stretching more than’s strictly necessary before plucking the bottle from it’s shelf. He takes his time making the drink, enjoying the feel of Sam’s heavy gaze, enjoying the soft moans issuing from between those sweet lips. He places it on a tray, adding a pack of nuts, because what the hell. Can’t go amiss with a little visual cue. It’s time.</p><p>Moving isn’t exactly easy. He may have chosen his accessories wisely, built for practicality rather than designed for maximum pleasure, but he still has a buttplug nestled between his cheeks and when he walks, even carefully like this, he feels the tapered end massaging him deep inside, occasionally brushing in all the places he doesn’t want to be brushed. Then there’s the rock hard dick, nudging at the bottom of the tray with every step, the flared tip far too sensitive to…</p><p>He hisses in a breath, the drink wobbles precariously, posh gin and eye wateringly expensive tonic sloshing over the side. He pauses. Ah screw it, he’ll probably spill more this way but… he balances the tray on one hand, just like he did in the opening scene of his first movie. Sam’s eyes widen a little. Ooh he likes that. Gabriel makes a mental note to look out his old costume. There’s no way the pants will fit, but the shirt was open and billowy, he’s pretty sure he could squeeze into it still. Maybe the waistcoat would just fit too. And he just knows he stashed the tash somewhere.</p><p>He makes it over. Sam’s stroking himself, watching Gabriel’s every move as he places the tray on the table. Half the drink’s on the tray instead of in the glass. He wonders if Sam will chastise him. He hopes he will. But Sam merely looks at him darkly, still stroking himself slowly. There’s a hint of something there beneath the surface. Gabriel watches as Sam reaches out a shaking hand and wraps it around his glass, bringing the drink to his lips and swallowing it down in one go. He’s nervous, Gabriel realises. Still so nervous. He’s afraid he’ll hurt Gabriel, he said as much, despite Gabriel’s reassurances that he’d prepped himself thoroughly, that any hurt would be in the best possible way. </p><p>He wonders if he should call a halt… But he… he wants this, he needs this. And he’s pretty damn sure that Sam does too. He saw it in his eyes when he lifted his toga, when Sam caught sight of his dick wrapped all up inside. It’s not like they haven’t had rough sex before, but never quite so worked up as this. Never quite so kinky. It’s a new element to their relationship. Gabriel takes in a breath. He has to be sure. He takes hold of Sam’s hand before he can draw it back.</p><p>“Color?” </p><p>Sam blinks up at him. It takes a moment to process. They talked about this beforehand, but it’s a new safety net Gabriel felt like he had to put in place. He needs Sam to be ok with this, he needs to know every step of the way.</p><p>“Green,” he says haltingly, then repeats himself a little more steadily. His brow furrows a moment later and Gabriel’s afraid he’s going to change his mind, but instead he asks the question back. “Color?”</p><p>Gabriel can’t help the smile that spreads across, his lips. “Viridian.”</p><p>“That’s kind of blueish,” Sam says with a small smile.</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes heavenwards. “Yeesh. It’s still green. I know my colors Samsquatch. Ok ok, goddamn Emerald.” He raises an eyebrow.</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh, but he slowly nods his head.</p><p>Game on. Gabriel takes in a deep breath through his nose. He shuffles a little closer, positions himself just right and gestures at the empties left on the table for this very purpose. “Let me get those for you.”</p><p>There’s a little laugh. Gabriel’s tempted to shoot Sam daggers over his shoulder, but as soon as he bends over he can hear Sam’s breath hitch, he can hear the sound of him begin to stroke himself again. There’s a shift of chair legs across the floor. He gathers the closest bottles and glasses onto the tray. Then he’s reaching forward, the extra stretch pulling the hem of his toga the rest of the way up. He can feel the material catch on the plug. He hitches in a breath in anticipation. Sam doesn’t keep him waiting long. His toga is pulled upwards, his legs nudged apart, one strong hand grasping his hip, the other going to the plug. At first it’s merely nudged, but then with no warning at all, it’s thrust that little bit deeper. He gasps, shaking violently at the sensation. Feels good, feels so fucking good. He has little time to adjust before Sam’s pulling it out. He doesn’t do it slowly, not carefully at all. Fuck. He can feel his ass trying to keep the toy inside him, but Sam tugs too sharply and suddenly it’s gone. He whines deep in his throat, tries to buck up from the table, but Sam pushes him down roughly. There’s a pause. Sam just staring at his fluttering hole. What is it with Sam and his goddamn hole gazing? He can feel the muscle spasming in anticipation under Sam’s gaze.</p><p>“C-color,” Sam stutters.</p><p>Gabriel swears long and loud. But no fucking commences. “Sap green. Winsor green. Leaf green. FUCKING HOOKER’S GREEN.” Gabriel yells.</p><p>There’s a grunt and then finally. Fucking finally. He feels the head of Sam’s cock at his entrance. It burns, despite the prep. His muscles struggle to compensate as Sam pushes in relentlessly in short sharp thrusts. He doesn’t wait for Gabriel to adjust, doesn’t wait at all. Gabriel feels like he’s being speared open, like he’s being hammered apart. One hand clutching at his hip, the other holding down firmly on his back. And it’s glorious, it’s fucking glorious. By the time Sam’s seated balls deep inside him, it feels like he’s lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his Gabriel’s throat. Gabriel’s nerve endings are on fire, he’s full to bursting. If he could have, he would have come already, explosively. Just from this. It’s everything he dreamed of, everything and more. And then Sam starts to move and he holds on for dear life. </p><p>It's not gentle, or careful or soft. It's none of those things. It's rough and ragged and desperate. Sam's all grabbing hands and forceful thrusts, harsh breaths in his ear. The hand holding him down leaves his overheated skin briefly, but he feels it again a moment later, fisting in his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt as Sam increases the pace. He bucks off the table as one particularly enthusiastic thrust hits the jackpot. <em>Holy mother of...</em> Nerve endings singing, sparks flying across his vision. There's a grunted sound of rebuke, Sam's hand leaving his hair to force him back down. </p><p>Gabriel wonders blearily if he should have put a cock ring on Sam too, as worked up as he was, but kid's got impressive stamina despite it all. Gabriel closes his eyes tightly, relishes every rough thrust. The burn has completely receded; it’s pleasure all the way. Sam’s tagging his prostate on almost every stroke. Pulses of pleasure bursting forth from deep inside him. Ok no. The pain is there, just not in his ass. His balls are burning. And in this position he’s painfully trapped. The pleasure Sam was eliciting was enough to mask it, but now. He needs. Fuck. He can’t hold back any more. He needs to come. </p><p>“S-Sam.” He sounds as broken as he feels. </p><p>Sam tugs him backwards off the table, frees his throbbing groin and then his hand is there, rolling the ring off his aching cock.</p><p>Sam whispers something. Heated breath making him shake uncontrollably. He can’t hear through the sound of blood rushing through his ears. The only part he catches… <em>my… Angel</em>. He’s not sure if there was something filthy in-between. He kind of hopes there was. But it’s time. It’s finally time. Sam nails his prostate once more, thrusting deep inside. He lets go. Lets the fires consume him, in all their blazing glory, shuddering his release in messy stripes all over the table in front of him. Between one ragged breath and the next, Sam joins him, flushing his insides, filling him up so perfectly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gabriel did not take out any of the fancy gin bottles. But it was a close call. I shall attempt to post the afterglow later today or tomorrow. See you soon...</p><p>EDIT: Yeah so because I liked the ridiculousness I didn't make this completely realistic. Should I have researched cock cages properly before writing this? Yes. Did I? No. I am not experienced with the BDSM stuff. Clearly haven't read enough of it. Trying to remedy that and do a little side search on a toy site. Turns out Gabriel would have been able to get at least a partial erection with that type of cage, but for the purposes of the story I'm going to assume it was a little more restrictive and smaller than he perhaps should have had(naughty Kali). Hence it being hideously uncomfortable. I changed it from no erection to partial to be slightly more in the realms of reality. Apologies I shall endeavor to be a little more in line with reality with future toy play!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Basking in the afterglow, Sam and Gabriel have an important conversation about their sexual relationship.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The boys talk through insecurities, boundaries etc.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SAM</p><p>He gathers Gabriel up into his arms. His heart is still thundering against his ribcage, his legs feel like jelly, but he still stands firm. He looks down at the slumped being in his arms. He would be freaking out right now, but Gabriel warned him this might happen, told him what to do. He carries Gabriel over to the blanket he asked Sam to set out earlier, lowering him down carefully onto the soft covering beneath. </p><p>He checks, he has to. Gabriel’s hole is a little pinker and puffier than normal, but he can’t see any damage and the fluid leaking out is a clear pearly white. No hint of any blood, no hint of any tearing.</p><p>“Tho…thought you were done with the hole gazing, Samilishish… But you clearly can’ get enough.” </p><p>Gabriel. His voice is slurred and hoarse, but he’s already coming around. Sam quickly scoots around, lifting Gabriel’s head up into his lap and stroking his hair from his face.</p><p>“Drink?” Gabriel croaks.</p><p>Sam mentally curses himself for forgetting. He grabs the bottle of gatorade and helps Gabriel to shift a little more upright while he takes a few careful sips. After a moment he hands the bottle back and settles back down in Sam’s embrace.</p><p>“I told you you wouldn’t hurt me kiddo. I’m fine. All sorts of gloriously fine.”</p><p>Sam huffs out a breath, fingers carding through his hair.</p><p>“You want to tell me what’s bothering you still?” Honey eyes search his features. “Come on Sam. Golden opportunity, when in the hells else are you going to have me shut up long enough for you to monologue.”</p><p>Sam lets out a little laugh. Raises one eyebrow. </p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Point.” He mimes bringing his hand to his mouth, zipping his lips shut.</p><p>Sam sighs. “I don’t know, I just… I thought you weren’t into anything hardcore.”</p><p>Gabriel lets out a loud barking laugh, shaking in Sam’s arms. <em>Jesus</em>. Sam sighs and makes a face at him, waiting it out until he’s calmed down.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he huffs out between a few ragged breaths. “It’s just. Hells Sam, gimp masks, electrodes and fucking machines. That’s hardcore. What we just did is practically vanilla.”</p><p>“Fucking machines?” Sam can’t help but ask.</p><p>Gabriel whistles long and loud. “Wow you have lived a sheltered life. Casa Erotica 16. You should really watch it. It’s a classic.”</p><p>Sam can’t help the little thrill that goes through him at the thought. He swallows and looks away.</p><p>“Sam?” There’s an edge of worry in Gabriel’s voice. Sam forces himself to look back. “Who was it Sam? Who the hells made you think that your desires were wrong, that there was something dirty about them?...”</p><p><em>About you</em>. Gabriel doesn’t utter those words, but he means them all the same. The intensity in Gabriel’s gaze is difficult to take, but it’s equally impossible for Sam to look away.</p><p>“I swear to God, I’m going to hunt them down and I’m going to… I’m going to smite them.”</p><p>Sam laughs and shakes his head. He bites his lip, face falling. “I guess… I didn’t realise it at the time, but Dean… I guess Dean made me figure out a few things, right back when I was screwing up… when I rejected you.”</p><p>Gabriel swallows at that, but he doesn’t look away either.</p><p>“She used to… She used to draw out the darker side of me. Get me to do things… Some things I liked. But others… Others I wasn’t so comfortable with. And then…” Sam trails off. He swallows around the lump in his throat. Gabriel reaches up, stroking down the side of his face. “She made out that I was broken. That I was so fucked up inside that no one else would ever love me. No one but her. Said… she said I was dirty, that it was like… like I had demon blood in me.”</p><p>Gabriel growls low in his throat. </p><p>“I mean she said the same about herself, that… that’s why we were so perfect for each other but…”</p><p>“That’s the biggest load of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Sam blinks down at him. “Come on Sam, take it from this Angel of the Lord. I can see through you, see you to the core and you’re so goddamn beautiful… Your soul, whatever… everything you are… You shine so goddamn brightly it’s like looking into the sun.”</p><p>Sam’s breath hitches. He’s often thought the same about Gabriel.</p><p>“Sam, she abused you. She abused your trust. No don’t you dare look away from me. Listen.” </p><p>Sam drags his eyes back to Gabriel’s intense gaze. </p><p>“There’s nothing dirty about you. There’s nothing wrong. I may not want to go everywhere you want to go, but hells the same is probably true with you. Doesn’t make either one of us dirty… Unless we want to be that is.”</p><p>Gabriel chuckles. Sam smiles and resumes stroking his hands through Gabriel’s hair. The locks are damp with sweat, but this close Sam can still see the golden strands shining in the overhead light. </p><p>“We’ve just gotta figure out where those boundaries are. Test them maybe once in awhile.” He pauses and purses his lips. “The cage…”</p><p>Sam winces. He looks away.</p><p>“Yeesh Sam that’s what I’m talking about.” Gabriel grabs hold of his chin and forces Sam to look down at him. “You liked it, didn’t you?”</p><p>Sam feels his cheeks flush scarlet, but he slowly nods his head.</p><p>Gabriel bites down on his lower lip. “Then I’ll wear it for you sometimes.”</p><p>“Gabriel no! I promised we wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with.”</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes yet again. “And I promised you I would tell you if I was. Wasn’t. Ok you’ve got me confused.” He furrowed his brow. “Think my brains may have leaked out of my dick along with all that explosive come.” He hisses in a breath. “Look, I’m not gonna lie, it was hella uncomfortable at times. But Sam. That anticipation. Holding off all day for you…” He breaks off and makes a low growling noise in the back of his throat. “That was one helluva release. You sent me soaring so high… Felt like you sent me right back to my heavenly abode. And there’s no way I’m gonna pass up on the opportunity of seeing you look at me like that again. You promise you won’t cage me up, hideaway the key and only let me come every second Tuesday?”</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh. “What is it with you and Tuesdays?”</p><p>Gabriel shrugs his shoulders then raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“No of course not Gabe.”</p><p>“Then we have a deal.”</p><p>Gabriel grins up at him and Sam can’t help but grin back. </p><p>“I told you I wasn’t into hardcore and that wasn’t a lie,” Gabriel eventually says, voice suddenly a lot more serious. “You weren’t the only one who was messed around. Some partners… Some partners thought because of who I was… What I did on screen. They thought it was a case of anything goes. But fuck Sam I’m human and…” his voice hitches. Sam furrows his brows, moves his hand down to Gabriel’s face, stroking his thumb across Gabriel’s cheekbone. “I don’t like pain. I mean hells I like some pain, you know when it hurts so good…” He makes a frustrated noise, but Sam nods his head. He’s pretty sure he gets what Gabriel means. “But not gut wrenching agony. Not broken skin or all that jazz. I wanna feel like I’ve had a good hard fucking, feel it for a coupla days, not like I’ve been ripped to shreds.” He shudders and Sam holds him tighter. “And I don’t wanna share you. I’m selfish and greedy and I don’t share. I don’t want to be shared around either. I’m not a fucking buffet.”</p><p>Gabriel draws in a breath. Sam runs his fingers gently down the side of Gabriel’s face.</p><p>“I’ll never lick your boots or call you sir…. Ooh unless we’re playing naughty school girl, then all bets are off.”</p><p>Sam lets out a startled laugh. “Jesus Gabe.”</p><p>“Pulease, tell me haven’t fantasized about me in knee high socks, pigtails and a tartan skirt. Go on please.”</p><p>Sam laughs again. “I’m pretty sure I don’t need to fantasize. Didn’t we do that already?”</p><p>Gabriel purses his lips in thought before nodding his head. “That was naughty Cheerleader but close enough… Ok Samwise I’ll give you that one. Point is, I like to mouth off and that’s never going to change. I get some folks go for all that, and there’s nothing wrong with it… but I just don’t think it’s something I want to do again. Ever. That’s just not me.”</p><p>Sam swallows around the lump in his throat. “Gabe…” His voice wavers. He clears his throat and tries again. “I love… I love that we play, but I don’t think that’s something I want either. I don’t want you submissive… I want you as the mouthy, pushy little shit you are.”</p><p>Gabriel glares up at him a moment before his face splits into a wide grin, eyes crinkling, dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth. “Aw you really do love me for who I am.”</p><p>“Of course I do,” Sam says, leaning down to press a kiss to Gabriel’s quirked lips.</p><p>They stay there silently for a few long breaths, Sam absently caressing Gabriel’s face, Gabriel curling up in his embrace. They need to clear up soon. Gabriel made a hell of a mess all over the table and he’s pretty sure there’s a dripping trail all the way over here. But for now…</p><p>“Fucket list,” Gabriel mutters, startling Sam from his quiet reverie.</p><p>“Uh what?”</p><p>“Fucket list Sam,” Gabriel repeats with a tired roll of his eyes. “It’s past time we wrote our Fucket list. Like a Bucket list but with more-”</p><p>“Orgasms?” Sam laughs. “Yeah I remember. And…”</p><p>Gabriel makes a face at him. “And we write it down Sam! Everything we ever dreamed of. Everything we want to do together, to each other. Every little fantasy. We write them down. Then we… ooh discuss… That’s if we don’t get ourselves too worked up. Then we write the masterlist. The pièce de résistance.”</p><p>Sam swallows, the very thought sending a thrill right through him. Maybe a little of fear, but mostly… mostly…</p><p>“No kink shaming, no rolling of eyes. Don’t look at me like that. I swear. Scouts honor.”</p><p>Sam rolls his eyes. Gabriel makes a face at him.</p><p>“Yeesh Sam, thems the rules. So much to gain, nothing to lose.”</p><p>“Lots of orgasms,” Sam mutters with a ghost of a smile.</p><p>“Don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re just a pretty face.” Gabriel looks up at him with his lips pursed and his head cocked to the side. “You’ve actually got a brain somewhere in that-”</p><p>He doesn’t get any further, Sam swallows his words with lips and tongue. Gabriel doesn’t even bother to protest this time. He just threads his fingers back into Sam’s hair and groans loudly into his mouth. There aren’t many thoughts after that, but one train of thought does surface in his mind. That this is the best damn birthday he could have ever dreamed of. But more than that… His mind wanders to the next one and the one after that. He sees all those celebrations in front him and he knows that with Gabriel beside him, with Gabriel under him… he can’t wait. He can’t wait to see what the future has in store for them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So. So. I hate it when I don't know what to write here. So... Yeah I guess this is a little... what to expect with this series. There's definitely going to be a lot of play, but I won't ever be going hardcore BDSM on this one. I do read it myself, but it doesn't feel right for them as I've written them and I don't think I'd write it effectively. That doesn't mean there won't be some pretty out there, kinky stuff, but I'll always tag of course. And there'll always be a side of the absurd. It's just how these two roll. </p><p>It might be a little while for the next update as I always like to keep a good long way ahead of the writing and I've been struggling to write lately. Next weekend if I'm still struggling, maybe a little earlier if I make any headway. Thanks so much for sticking with me on this Frankenstein's monster of a fic! I appreciate each and every one of you x</p><p>(EDIT: yes I did just add Sam and Gabriel's Fucket List as a character. I may be in a very silly mood)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Present Day. Sam has a plan, Dean has a plan.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam’s heart stutters in his chest, he sits down heavily on the bed. Of course this was a bad idea. He rubs a hand over his face. His other hand is shaking so badly that he’s struggling to hold on to the page. He figured he’d try to find the book Gabriel was reading, his latest trashy romance or epic space opera. But Gabriel must have been between books or maybe stashed it somewhere else. Not in his nightstand with all the half used bottles of lube and multitude of condoms. And this. <em>Fuck</em>. He forgot he shoved this in here. That he couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, but he equally couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. </p><p>Because there was hope… <em>And there’s still hope</em>, he tells himself. </p><p>He stares down at the page, the prominant title at the top. <em>Gabriel and Sam’s Fucket List</em>, written in tall messy letters, surrounded by scribbled hearts and one or two cartoon penises. He remembers asking Gabriel if he was actually 13 and Gabriel flipping him off and declaring that it was perfect just the way it was. </p><p>He should stow it away. But… his eyes run down the list… memories sparking in his mind. All the items they crossed off the list. They wrote it after Sam’s birthday, that incredible night that started it all, but Gabriel insisted on including it, because there was no way he was going to ‘leave off the best sex we’ve ever had’. And so it sits at the top of the list, scored out and with an A++++++ rating given by Gabriel at the side. He did that with all of them, gave ratings, made comments, even drew one or two ‘illustrations’. The page is filled with his scribblings. </p><p>His eyes drift downwards, landing on the most jumbled mess of crossed out entries. He snorts out a laugh. <em>In the Impala</em>. Scribbled out and rewritten several times. Not because they actually fucked there, but because Gabriel kept on adding it, and Sam kept on scoring it out, usually with helpful annotations, such as, <em>Jesus Gabe we are never fucking in the back of my brother’s car</em>. But the last entry, merely has one line through it, a favorable rating to the side. <em>ON the Impala</em>. </p><p>Sam rubs a hand over his face. It was supposed to be on his birthday proper, but Dean wouldn’t let Sam borrow the car. Probably for reasons just like this. But eventually he relented, if Sam would swear on… Swear on Gabriel’s life. Of course Sam refused. They went back and forth until eventually Dean snapped and said he could borrow the car if he swore on something he loved as much as Dean loved baby. Though not in quite those words. Sam choose Gabriel’s hair and later winced that they came so close.</p><p>Gabriel said it was technicality. They broke no rules. Only bent them. They drove out for miles, just enjoying the open road, Gabriel singing along to the music. The wind in their hair. Well at least in Gabriel’s, as he stuck his head right out. And when night was falling, they chose a quiet spot, far away from lights, and admittedly prying eyes. They shared a meal. Sam drank a beer, Gabriel half a bottle of wine. And then they climbed up onto the hood of the car and stared up into the heavens. They talked. Shared more. About their lives. Big things and small things. And everything inbetween. And then they fell silent.</p><p>It was perfect. It was beautiful. And Sam was caught in the spell. It felt natural and right to kiss Gabriel deeply, to caress his beautiful body in the moonlight, to draw down his slacks, slip between his thighs and slip a finger deep inside. To make love under the heavens spread above them. To lie there after, breathless and fullfilled, staring up at the multitude of stars stretched across the sky. To feel his heart swell at the sight, at the man pressed against him. His love, his Gabriel.</p><p>Dean never found out. Thank God. Sam’s not sure if Gabriel would have ever forgiven him if Dean had snuck into their appartment in the dead of the night, brandishing clippers or slipping Nair into his Strawberries and Cream Shampoo. Sam’s not sure if he’d have forgiven himself that one either.</p><p>He lets out a small laugh; it sounds more like a sob. Tears prick in his eyes. He scrubs them roughly away. He doesn’t want to damage this piece of paper, this document of their love. It’s ridiculous, but it’s them to their core. Through bleary eyes he stares at all the other entries. Those they never got to. <em>Sex on the beach</em>, surrounded by palm trees and a cartoon cocktail; <em>Skinny dipping/porch swing fucking</em>, with a note to ask Ellen if they could go back to the cabin in the Summer (they never got around to asking quite yet); <em>Uber hot nerdy librarian/fucking in the stacks</em>, Sam’s idea with the location, but Gabriel was adamant about the persona… So many scenarios, so many sex toys to explore. Sam was a little dubious about sounding, but Gabriel said he wanted to try some day...</p><p>Sam’s heart clenches painfully in his chest as he reads them over and over. He planned to make his own list, put in an order and surprise Gabriel with a few things after the exhibition was over. God they had so many plans. They thought they would have time, that they had a lifetime to explore each other, to love each other.</p><p>He hastily sets the list aside as the tears spill over. He can’t hold them back any longer. Even if Gabriel…  He has no idea what the future holds for them now. If they have a future at all… He can’t. <em>Shit</em>. He runs his hands back through his hair. He can’t do this. He can’t dwell on the past and he can’t fear for the future. He needs to focus on the here and now. </p><p>He has a plan. He thought it through in the dead of the night, when sleep failed to come upon him yet again. All the things that Gabriel loved. His books, his music, his friends, all the words that they muttered to each other as they were tangled together in one warm embrace. If Gabriel is still in there, then he needs to know. Needs to know that Sam’s still here waiting for him, that he hasn’t given up on him. </p><p>Swallowing, he reaches for his cell phone. He searches for Chuck’s number. Gabriel’s oldest friend. It feels like the right place to start. He hestitates only a moment, then he hits dial.</p><p>~~~</p><p>DEAN</p><p>“Are you sure about this boy?”</p><p>Bobby scrutinises him closely. Dean holds his gaze a moment and finds he has to look away. He takes a swallow of his beer, uses it as a cover as he tries to come up with some answer that won’t sound like he’s completely bullshitting. Truth is, he isn’t sure. Isn’t sure at all. But he’s equally sure he can’t just sit around anymore, sit around and watch as his brother draws further and further into himself, as he falls deeper into a self imposed hell. It’s not just loss of hope. That would be hard enough. But it’s a whole lot worse than that. It’s guilt. Dean can see it in his eyes. He’s drowning in it and Dean knows, just fucking knows that he won’t be able to pull himself out. It was the same with Jess, blaming himself for years before accepting that it was a freak accident… that he couldn’t have known. Dean’s not even sure if he has fully accepted, but he knows Gabriel was instrumental in helping him get past it.</p><p>And now, fuck. Dean gets why he would blame himself. The choices he made… The choices they both made… Christ he would never come right out and say it, but maybe they were a little foolish in the light of day. But fuck, that doesn’t mean Sam is to blame for what happened. Nor Gabriel. The psychotic asshole who is, has his ass firmly planted in a jail cell, awaiting trial. The Sheriff assured them all that it’s a slam dunk, that he will pay for what he’s done. But Dean isn’t blind, he knew there was more to it. So he talked to Charlie, Natalie, even Kevin. He asked around and one name kept on coming up. Two actually. Husband and wife. He should have fucking known.</p><p>His eyes travel over to Luke, who’s making no attempt to hide the fact that he’s poking around Dean and Cas’ apartment. He sighs. Cas filled in the blanks after the show down at Sam’s exhibition, told him Luke’s story, theirs. His own. Dean punched a wall that night. Cas held his hand afterwards, cleaned up the wound, took care of him and made him promise. Made him promise not to do anything stupid.</p><p>Only now. Now he’s pretty sure he’s going to break that promise.</p><p>“Kid.” Dean looks over to Bobby, he almost forgot there was a question. He’s still not sure he can answer it. “You’re not just putting yourself on the line here. This thing goes south and you’re gonna take a whole lot of people with you.”</p><p>Dean clenches his jaw, turns his head away. He can’t take the way Bobby’s looking at him. </p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Castiel… He won’t thank you if his brother goes back inside.”</p><p>Dean takes in a sharp breath through his nose, feeling his heart clench at the thought. “I know that too.”</p><p>He knows it all too well. He’s thought of little else. Even if the worst doesn’t transpire, he’s going behind Cas’ back, doing what he expressly told Dean not to do. Even if that was before Gabriel. Maybe Cas would support him now… maybe. But there’s no way he can bring him in on this. He needs to focus on his brother. And so there’s little choice. He needs to lie to the man he loves. There might be no coming back from that. But it’s still… it’s still the right thing to do.</p><p>He leans back against the counter, eyes drifting back to Luke’s lax, seemingly bored figure.</p><p>Bobby settles in a bit closer, lowers his voice so it won’t travel above the background music. “The Novaks were a private sort. Didn’t want no one nosing around. But not a single person in this town could miss how broken that boy was when they released him.”</p><p>Bobby doesn’t exactly elaborate, doesn’t add what they both know to be true. That he’s still very much broken. </p><p>Dean sets his jaw and looks back at Bobby, meets his worried gaze. “I get it. I do. He’s been carrying around a load of shit. Maybe it’s time he gets the chance to lighten that load.”</p><p>Bobby gives him a look. He almost looks away, but he forces himself to remain steady, to meet that piercing gaze. Bobby can see right through him. That should scare the shit out of him, but somehow it doesn’t.</p><p>“He needs closure.” He almost makes a face at the word. Fucking therapists. If he never has to sit through that shit again, he’ll be the most well adjusted asshole in the world. “The dickbags who did that to his family, they never got what they deserved. They went on with their lives while he got his ass thrown in juvie. But apparently that wasn’t fucking good enough. Do you know that more than a Goddamn decade later, Zachariah saw Cas’ name on a list of successful scholarship applicants? And do you know what they did? They fucking manipulated it all to shit. The funding was pulled for some bullshit technicality.”</p><p>Bobby shakes his head, but he doesn’t look a whole lot surprised.</p><p>“Cas didn’t want to get into debt and screw up the family’s crappy finances. He wouldn’t have gone to school if it wasn’t for Gabriel stepping up.” Dean makes a face. He really doesn’t want to go into the details of that. He only just learned that shit a few weeks back. He is never, absolutely never, stealing his brother’s laptop again. “Of course he denied he did, but Cas knew better. It was pretty damned obvious when Naomi pulled the rug out from under Gabriel’s graduate career.”</p><p>Bobby just stares at him a moment. “Well hell boy, why didn’t you lead with all that?”</p><p>Dean let’s a small smile spread across his features. “So you’ll help?”</p><p>“Do I look like a ditchable prom date to you?”</p><p>Dean raises his eyebrows.</p><p>Bobby rolls his eyes. Then his expression turns uncharacterisically soft. “Family don’t end with blood, boy. You know I’ve always got your back. Yours and Sam’s.”</p><p>Dean swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. He brings his beer to his lips, tries to fight back the tears that are threatening to build in his eyes. Before they came to Jericho, Bobby was little but a memory from way back in their childhood, an old friend of Dad’s. Sam was a little too young to remember much, but Dean remembers. He remembers camping out in Bobby’s back yard. He remembers hunting trips he was really too young for. He remembers Karen’s Apple Pie. Damn but he could hardly forget that. But there was little contact after Dad and he had a falling out. Dad would do that, rub people the wrong way. But when Dad died, Bobby reached out. He helped Dean through some dark times. They kept in contact and when Sam broached the idea of going back to college… well maybe Dean had thrown a few brochures his way. It was the perfect fit. He knew Bobby would take him on. </p><p>And Bobby’s been looking out for him since. Shit. He looks hastily away. </p><p>“And of course you idjits will get your damn selves killed if I don’t, so I guess that makes me obliged.”</p><p>Dean laughs and shakes his head. The bell rings. Good, looks like the other’s are finally arriving. This is it. He places his drink down on the counter and steps towards the door. Bobby grabs his arm before he can get any further. </p><p>“You sure you want Luke here when this goes down?”</p><p>Dean purses his lips, but nods his head.</p><p>Bobby blows out a breath, but lets go of Dean’s arm. “Kid’s not stable.”</p><p>Dean looks over briefly at Luke, who’s moved on from poking to actually pulling drawers open and rummaging inside. He takes in a breath and shrugs his shoulder’s. “Who the hell is?”</p><p>Bobby shakes his head, but he says no more as Dean walks over to the door, making a face at Luke as he passes by. Luke completely ignores him. He sighs and opens the door. </p><p><em>Well shit</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bobby! As requested :). </p><p>Not to make anyone worry, but... I have a touch of writer's block. I think I can get through it, but I've got some difficult decisions and I may try to write one way and then change my mind. It's a case of, how angsty do I go? I'm still not sure if I should push it as far as I've had in my head from the start. As such I'll be keeping updates to once a week for the time being until I get myself out of this rut and complicated plot points.I'll see you next week.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's a month before the end of Sam's course. Sam's been too busy to attend, but they're making plans. This weekend should be better, much better. Only Zachy hasn't gotten the memo and is doing his very damndest to put a dampner on Gabriel's good mood. Maybe it's time he finally did something about that great big bag of dicks...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>~ 1 MONTH EARLIER, 4 weeks before the Graduate exhibition</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>“Uh Gabe…”</p><p>Gabriel looks up from devouring his breakfast to raise an eyebrow at his boyfriend… his hot and sweaty… and oh so hot… did he mention hot?... Boyfriend. Fresh from his morning run. Dripping with sweat. Gabriel’s very tempted to forgo the rest of his breakfast and just spend the rest of the morning licking it off. </p><p>“Uh yes hotsauce?” His voice maybe comes out sounding a little squeakier than he intended.</p><p>“I’m not… I’m not… <em>jizzing</em> in your ear…”</p><p>Gabriel scrunches his face up. What is he… Oh <em>that</em>. He forgot about that little addition to the Fucket List.</p><p>“Ah sorry about that Samsquatch. I was horny… and <em>alone</em>.” He didn’t mean that last part to come out sounding all accusatory. He draws in a breath through his nose, letting his voice settle into something a little more friendly… Sexy? Maybe sexy too… Damn it but his libido’s running rampant and Sam’s been too busy to attend. “Just sort of… came out in a… lustful haze… We don’t have to… I mean I don’t actually want you to come in every single orifice I have… Now, not so accidental bukkake… again. That I wouldn’t say no to and…”</p><p>He trails off his babble, taking in another breath through his nose as Sam strides over to him with purpose. Ok so he takes one medium sized step. Because Gabriel’s at the counter and Sam’s legs are so obscenely long. Sam’s hands are on his face. They’re sweaty like the rest of him, but Gabriel finds he doesn’t mind, doesn’t mind one bit.</p><p>“Gabe, I’m sorry,” Sam says softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Gabriel’s lips. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?”</p><p>Gabriel makes a noise in the back of his throat. It isn’t a whine. Not at all.</p><p>“I’ve got to work tonight-”</p><p>Ok that was a whine.</p><p>“But… Tomorrow…” Sam’s hands are in his hair. Gabriel’s breath hitches as his lips turn up into a beautiful smile. “Tomorrow I thought we could take a drive out and-”</p><p>“He said yes?!” Gabriel’s eyebrows dart up his forehead. “Holy cats Sam! How the hells did you get him to agree?”</p><p>“Uh well… I guess I just wore him down.”</p><p>Gabriel’s eyes narrow in suspicion. There’s something Sam’s not telling him. He really should call him on it, but… but there are far more important things to discuss. He wiggles his eyebrows.</p><p>Sam laughs and presses their foreheads together. Yeesh Sam, that’s super sweaty. He resists the urge to stick out his tongue and lick Sam’s cheek.</p><p>“Gabe I told you, we are <em>never</em> fucking in my brother’s car.”</p><p>Gabriel glares as Sam draws back, but a moment later a smile breaks out across his features. He can’t help it. Because hells, he’s wanted to do this for so long, since before they even got together. Just the two of them, out on the open road, parking out somewhere quiet as the sun goes down, away from streetlights, away from everything. Just lying down side by side, looking up into the star encrusted sky. Who the hells says he’s not romantic. He can be romantic.</p><p>Ok and making out… a lot.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Gabriel stares down at the rainbow flurry falling to his bare feet. It should be funny. It should be hilarious. Somehow it’s not. Not at all. Of course the fucking coward would wait for the perfect opportunity, wait until Sam and Ellen left the room. It was supposed to be a good day, leading into a perfect weekend. But of course Zachariah would have to go and spoil it all. </p><p>He doesn’t care that he’s goddamn naked, that the rest of the class are staring at them with wide eyes. He steps right into Zachariah’s personal space, fists clenched by his side.</p><p>“Listen to me you arrogant, homophobic dick-” </p><p>“No, you listen to me <em>Gabriel</em>.” His name is drawn out into a growl, like it’s the dirtiest word the man has ever uttered. “You dare spread your filth over the word of God-”</p><p>“The word of God? Are you serious?” Gabriel spits out. “Your small petty mind can’t comprehend the word of 3rd grader, let alone a major diety. You really think that bullying and intimidating a bunch of vulnerable kids is following the word of God? Making them feel unsafe in their home from home? This is supposed to be the best time of their lives. They’re supposed to be getting drunk every night. Making poor life choices. Not fearing for their goddamn lives. What the fuck gives you the right?!”</p><p>He’s breathing heavily. He should probably take a damn step back before he does something he regrets, but he’s furious. He’s so fucking furious. This has gone on too long.</p><p>Zachariah doesn’t step back either. He just laughs in his face.</p><p>“If they’re old enough to sin, then they’re old enough to feel the consequences of their actions.” He pauses for a moment, just long enough to smile that cold, cold smile. “Tell me, how old was your brother when he fell from grace? I forget. 13? 14?”</p><p>“Shut your Cakehole,” Gabriel snarls into Zachariah’s face. The urge to wipe the smile from it overwhelming in that instant.</p><p>But fingers close around his fist before it connects, strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him backwards. He struggles, tries to break free. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, rage pulsing through his veins. There are calming words, muttered into his ear, but they don’t penetrate the haze of anger that’s taken hold of him.</p><p>“Get out! Get the hell out!”</p><p>That he did hear. He watches with wild eyes as Ellen steps up beside him, fury writ all over her face. Something in him calms in her presence, like he’s been pulled back from the ragged edge. He stops struggling against Sam’s restraint, instead taking comfort in the arms surrounding him.</p><p>Zachariah’s smile falters, eyes narrowing as he regards Ellen with contempt.</p><p>“You wouldn’t dare.”</p><p>“The fuck I wouldn’t.” </p><p>There are a few gasps. They’ve all seen Ellen pissed off, but pissed off enough to drop the f-bomb? They clearly don’t know her too well.</p><p>Zachariah opens his mouth to argue, but Ellen shuts him down with a dangerous look. </p><p>“If you don’t leave right this instant I won’t just refuse to teach you a minute more. I’ll make sure you don’t graduate, and then I’ll file a report of the assault that took place in my classroom in front of my very eyes.”</p><p>Zachariah steps forward at that, a growl leaving his lips. “<em>He</em> almost assaulted <em>me</em>.”</p><p>Ellen’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I witnessed. That’s not what any of us witnessed.”</p><p>At that there’s a grumble of assent from the rest of the class. Gabriel feels something clench in the pit of his belly. There’s movement in the periphery of his vision. He glances over as Charlie steps to his other side. </p><p>“He threatened Gabriel first.”</p><p>“He threw… he threw campaign stickers at him.” Becky. Hells that’s Becky now. Her voice sounds wobbly, but here she is walking round her easel and coming to stand next to Charlie. She swallows before adding in a more assured voice. “Stickers that he didn’t even make. I did.”</p><p>Zachariah turns his narrowed gaze on her. He opens his mouth to say something, but Ellen clears her throat.</p><p>“If you value your career, you will leave now without another word. Because I am done with your shit Zachariah. I am done.”</p><p>Silence falls between them. Gabriel thinks that maybe Zachy won’t be able to control himself, that that thin veil of decorum he pretends to hold onto has once and truly snapped. But with one last glare in Gabriel’s direction he turns away. </p><p>Gabriel doesn’t watch as he packs his supplies angrily away, instead he turns in Sam’s arms, letting the other man draw him into his warm embrace. Suddenly he feels all too naked and maybe a little more vulnerable then he’d ever care to admit. But a moment later he feels fabric drawn over his shoulders and spares Charlie a small smile, sighing in relief as Sam carefully wraps his robe around him before encircling him in his arms once more. He’s vaguely aware of being guided towards Ellen’s office, of being sat down in her chair. </p><p>“Gabe…”</p><p>Sam’s kneeling down in front of him, hands coming up to cradle his jaw.</p><p>“Fuck Sam,” he chuckles somewhat deliriously, “almost had a rumble in the classroom… a naked rumble… with Zachy no less.” He pauses and makes a face. “Holy crap did that come out wrong.”</p><p>The corners of Sam’s lips twitch upwards. He leans forward and kisses Gabriel on the lips. It’s sweet and chaste and it almost breaks his heart.</p><p>“Gabe, I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Ellen just wanted to discuss logistics and… she wants me to help a little more with the exhibition again and… shit I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”</p><p>“Sorry you nearly missed naked fisticuffs?” Gabriel chuckles at the face Sam makes at that. “Zachy made sure you weren’t Sam. There’s no way he would have pulled that shit if you were in the room. Nor Ellen.”</p><p>Sam huffs out a breath and leans forward again, wrapping his arms about Gabriel’s middle and pillowing his head against Gabriel’s chest. Feels good. Gabriel hums and rests his cheek in Sam’s hair.</p><p>“I don’t have to stay late tonight. I can give it a miss, walk you home after class.”</p><p>Gabriel takes in a long breath. There’s nothing more he wants in the world, than to snuggle up with his boyfriend at the end of a hard day. Get hard and hot and sweaty and fuck all his troubles away. But Sam needs to work and… and it’s past time that he stepped up and took a stand. He saw how his friends were at Sam’s birthday bash. He vowed to do something then, but he’s let two whole weeks go by without doing a damned thing. He was distracted. True. Aching balls and the most intense orgasm he’s ever had will tend to do that to a guy. Then the day after. All day in bed. Just being with each other. Slow drawn out blowjobs, handjobs and a hell of a lot more besides. He’s pretty sure they went through 3 sets of bedding. Then compiling the Fucket list. So damn distracting.</p><p>But enough is enough. He can’t just sit idly by. Not anymore. Zachy made a mistake when he mentioned Cassie. The bruises may have long since healed. Cassie may be in a pretty damn good place in his life now. But Gabriel will never forget. He’ll never forget the look of terror in his eyes when Gabriel’s gaze caught on that one purpling mark. He’ll never forget the tears that fell from his brother’s eyes as he begged Gabriel not to tell Luke. He’ll never forget and he’ll certainly never forgive.</p><p>“Baby?”</p><p>A shiver runs down Gabriel’s spine at the name, he meets Sam’s worried eyes. “No. No it’s ok Sam. I’m ok. You need to work and I… I need to call Chuckles.”</p><p>Sam raises his eyebrows.</p><p>“Some heroes wear capes Sam. Others… they wear a tash.”</p><p>The look that Sam gives him is the most precious thing in the world. Somewhere between complete and utter bafflement, amusement and most definitely arousal. Oh yes most definitely that.</p><p>~~~</p><p>“Uh… are you sure about this?”</p><p>Gabriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. </p><p>“Almost done Chuckles.” </p><p>His friend huffs out an annoyed breath. “That’s not what I asked. And I told you not to call me that. Multiple times, spanning multiple years.”</p><p>“Ah sorry Chuck-” He only just stops himself from adding another little tagline to his friend’s name. “I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”</p><p>“<em>Gabriel</em>.” Only his old bestie could  lengthen his name out to that many syllables. Like ten of them.</p><p>“The answer is yes. I am. Absolutely. No question. Now give me a sec to perfect what is already damn near perfection.”</p><p>Chuck mutters something under his breath. Something that Gabriel’s sure isn’t entirely flattering, but he stops hovering and bustles off to do his directory things. Which probably consists of putting on his director’s hat. Which is a ball cap. A standard ball cap. If it keeps him happy though and out of Gabriel’s slicked back hair? What the hells.</p><p>Gabriel turns back to the mirror, giving his reflection a final once over. His hair’s longer than it was then. He had to empty a shit tonne of gel into it to get it to stay in place, but he thinks he was successful. Maybe. They should probably get this thing done before any of his curls spring back in unruly defiance. It’s already curling over pretty badly at the back. No matter, it always did that a little and for the most part, it won’t be in frame. Speaking of, he lets his eyes drift down his torso. He was right about the billowiness. The shirt is open to the centre of his chest so he got the thing to fit. It’s tight about the shoulders. Thank you yoga and all those playfully wet and slippery swimming seshes with Sam. But it looks ok. There. Lower down however… Kinda straining over his belly. He is not in his 20s anymore. Ok he was in his thirties when he shot the movies. Just. Point is, there have been a fair few fancy pants profiteroles since then. Biscuits, cakes, jello shots… Maybe not so much of them. He knows how to party, but it’s hardly a frequent occasion any more. He sighs, almost runs his hands back through his hair, but stops himself at the last minute. He likes his food. So sue him. Sam doesn’t seem to mind. Sam likes the way he looks. Sam lavishes his body with attention every damn day and… Ok fuck he can’t think about that. His nipples are now looking super perky and his dick is starting to wake up. He can think about that later. </p><p>It doesn’t matter. Chuck will just have to frame the shot a little higher than intended. Focus more on the hotness of his open shirt. The waistcoat looks ok too. Now for the pièce de résistance. He lifts the hairpiece from the box, spreads a little out of date costume glue on it and presses it to his upper lip. Amazingly it still works. There. Perfect. He gives himself one last smoulder in the mirror. T.Rickster is back. And ready to fulfill a desire or two. Ok no, he’s ready to make a public service announcement. But hey, details. </p><p>He rolls his shoulders, pouts his lips and wiggles his eyebrows. Zachy won’t know what hit him. </p><p>Game on.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Complicated plot is complicated. I'm posting a little early since I've got a busy weekend ahead of me. I may be slowing the posting to once a week again as I have woven myself a tangled web and I keep on having to make adjustments. As such I need that buffer to be pretty big. </p><p> </p><p>Edit: no longer relevant on the tags thing so I'm removing this note. I changed my mind on the rewrite and forgot to update here. Sorry!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Roadtrip!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: The author reserves the right to "fuck around with celestial mechanics".</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SAM</p><p>Sam stares at Gabriel as he stumbles towards the car carrying far more than he can handle. His cool box, holdall, two canvas bags straining with what looks like a lifetime’s supply of junk food, cushions and their snuggle blanket thrown on top.</p><p>“You do know we’re going to be out for like 4 hours tops.” Sam says with wry smile. “We’re not preparing for the apocalypse.”</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes, quickly readjusting his grip as the motion almost sends a flurry of cushions tumbling to the ground.</p><p>“Pulease, if this was the apocalypse, you wouldn’t be able to see outta the back window.”</p><p>Sam raises an eyebrow as he steps forward to take a few precarious items from Gabriel’s arms.</p><p>“Because of all the toilet paper we would have to hoard.”</p><p>Sam makes a face at him. “Seriously? I think people would be more interested in food and medicine.”</p><p>“Nuh hu. Toilet paper Sam. Should the apocalypse decend upon us, we’re hoarding toilet paper like it’s made of Gold. Cause it will be.” </p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh and wiggles the bag of junk food in Gabriel’s direction.</p><p>“That and candy.” He furrows his brow and snaps his fingers in the air. “Oh and lube. Definitely lube.”</p><p>“Don’t you do that already?” Sam laughs at Gabriel’s affronted expression as he walks around to place the items in the trunk.</p><p>“Variety is the spice of life my Samilicious. Besides- Woa woa woa, road trip snacks do not belong in the trunk.”</p><p>Sam pauses and makes a face at Gabriel. “Dean will kill us if you get crumbs all over the front seat. And did you actually bring any proper food?” </p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes, snatching the bag from Sam before he can shove it in and dropping in the cool box instead. “Your rabbit food’s in there Paltrow. And I think Dean-o will be too busy murdering us for far more fun reasons.”</p><p>“Jesus Gabe, how many times have I told you, we-are-not-fucking-in-the-back-of-my-brother’s-car!” He says it slowly, enounciating every word to bring the message home.</p><p>Gabriel’s silent for a moment, lips drawn together in the most adorable pout Sam’s ever seen. Sam sighs and grabs the rest of their belongings to pack in the trunk, though he does relent and let Gabriel keep his snacks. Because he knows just how many complaints he’ll get if he doesn’t. He’ll just have to shell out to have the car detailed before he hands it back tomorrow. He closes the trunk securely and looks over at Gabriel.</p><p>“Ready to go?”</p><p>Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows in reply, raises his index finger and smirks. Sam sighs.</p><p>“You did not say anything about the <em>front</em> of the car.”</p><p>~~~</p><p>Sam smiles over at Gabriel as he drums his fingers on the dashboard, humming along to the tune.</p><p>“Dean would have a fit if he knew we were sullying his soundsystem with popular music.”</p><p>Gabriel chuckles and reaches over to squeeze Sam’s knee. “It’s a catchy tune! And it’s relevant.”</p><p>Sam hastily grabs Gabriel’s hand and pushes it off his knee before it can go wandering in the vicinity of his crotch again. Gabriel pouts a little, but soon enough he’s smiling at Sam again, those fingers going back to drumming out the beat.</p><p>“It was made this century. That would be enough to set him off,” Sam grins. “And I’m so not complaining, it’s nice to have a change of pace.”</p><p>Gabriel hums in assent, turning away from Sam and looking out the side window. Sam tries to not get too distracted by the curls at the back of his neck, by the way the early evening sunlight is catching on golden strands threaded through chestnut brown. </p><p>He swallows, dragging his eyes back to the road ahead before he does something stupid like crash his brother’s car, just because he can’t keep his damn eyes off his boyfriend. There’ll be time enough to stare once they find a place to park. There’s a State park just under an hour’s drive south. Finding a spot that’s secluded enough may be a little tricky, the terrain in this part of Kansas doesn’t exactly lend itself to much coverage. It won’t be quite like it was at the cabin, halfway across the state, but Sam doesn’t want to spend hours driving back in the dark. He’d rather they got to spend some time there together without worrying about him falling asleep at the wheel. The main thing is to get away from all the street lights, away from the main highways.</p><p>The upbeat tones of George Ezra’s “Shotgun” finally come to a close. It takes Sam roughly 5 seconds to figure out what’s next on Gabriel’s mixtape. His cheeks flaring bright red in the same space of time.</p><p>“Oh Hotsauce, that’s quite the flush you’ve got going on there. Bringing back some fond memories?”</p><p>“You’re actually trying to kill me aren’t you.”</p><p>Gabriel merely smirks and starts to sing along. If anything, his altered lyrics and performance are even raunchier than they were at New Year’s Eve. Sam’s mind can’t help drifting back to that night. And then further back to their tryst in the Harvelle’s worshop. Sam’s tongue in Gabriel’s ass. The first time he barebacked. <em>Fuck</em>. It’s getting unbearably hot in here.</p><p>“You do realise, that if I die, you’re coming along with me right?” Sam hisses. </p><p>Gabriel only smirks more, wiggling his eyebrows, spreading his legs and unbuttoning another button at his already open neckline. Christ, why does he have to always do that? Show off half his chest. Sam looks forcedly away, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other scrabbles to crank the window down. </p><p>The blast of cool air is like a balm to his overheated skin. He suddenly feels like he can breathe again.</p><p>Gabriel halts halfway through the chorus. </p><p>“Please tell me you’re gonna stick your head out the window like the overgrown pup you are.”</p><p>Sam’s eyes leave the road only long enough to shoot his boyfriend a massive bitchface.</p><p>“Oh Sam, way to turn up the heat.” Gabriel drawls. Then he’s cranking down his own window. Sam can’t help it, his gaze flicks over to Gabriel as he shoots Sam the most brilliant smile he has. And without any more preamble, he sticks his own head right out the open window.</p><p>Sam’s mesmorised by the sight. He keeps half an eye on the road, he really doesn’t want to bring this day to horrifically tragic end, but the road is empty and straight. And he can’t miss this. Can’t miss the sight of his boyfriend, so beautiful and carefree, eyes closed, face tilted towards the low sun, hair blowing wildly in the breeze. </p><p>It’s not the first time the thought crosses his mind, but never has he been so sure. Never has he been so sure of anything in his life. He’s going to marry this man.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Gabriel runs his hands back through his hair. His fingers catch in the tangled strands. Ah well. Sam’s giving him that look again. He’s tempted to make a lewd comment, but under the intensity of that gaze? Hells he has nothing. Instead he smiles, eyes darting away. </p><p>His tape ran out a few miles ago. With nothing better to listen to, Sam stuck on one of Dean’s softer Rock albums, turning the sound down low. They’re almost there. Gabriel can feel the anticipation building. Does he wish he didn’t stick his head out the window and turn his hair into the hurricane blasted mess it is now? Maybe. But there’s honestly little that can permeate the warm fuzzies that have decended upon him. Sam turns down a winding track. After a mile or so the vegetation thickens. Well it gets a little less scrubby. It’s hardly much, but this late in the day the place is deserted. The solitary camp ground is on the other side of the lake and it’s a big ass lake. It’s unlikely they’ll come across anyone else. Screw it. It’s perfect. There’s a small turn out. Sam doesn’t need to be told to pull in. He cuts the engine and they spare a moment to gaze into each other’s eyes by the dying light. </p><p>Sam leans over and presses a soft kiss to his lips. Gabriel’s tempted to scrabble over, climb into his lap, but before he can shake himself from this pleasant blissful haze, Sam already has the door open and is climbing out.</p><p>Gabriel grumbles, but he soon follows suit, brushing chocolate crumbs off his lap on the way. Ah oops, maybe Sam was right, he has kinda left a mess in there. Nevermind. They can deal with it later. Now. Now he’s not missing a moment. The air is definitely a lot cooler. He wraps his arms around him before remembering that his shirt is hanging halfway open. He hastly buttons himself up before circling around to Sam. </p><p>Sam has half of their supplies out, but he stops as soon as Gabriel sidles up, setting down the coolbox and wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s middle, drawing him in for a deep, satisfying kiss. Gabriel finds himself shivering even though he no longer feels cold. He sucks in a breath, chasing Sam’s lips as they part. Sam stops him, bringing his thumbs up to brush them gently over Gabriel’s lips instead. Holy cats. He stares up into Sam’s beautiful eyes. <em>Sunflowers</em>, he thinks deleriously. Van Gogh would have a field day with his Samshine’s sunflower eyes. <em>Fuck</em>. </p><p>“I love your lips.”</p><p>Gabriel blinks up at him. Sam blushes and looks away. Like he just said the most ridiculous, embarassing thing in the world. He clears his throat and shuffles away, grabbing more of their things and bringing it all towards the front of the car. Gabriel just stares after him. How the hells did he get so lucky? How?</p><p>~~~</p><p>They’re on the hood of the Impala. This is perfect. He’s on his third glass of wine; Sam’s just done sipping his one beer. He’s stuffed full of good food and admittedly far too many sweet snacks. Just laid out side by side, looking up into the clear skies above them.</p><p>“Why do they call it the seven sisters?” Sam mutters by his side. “I can see like ten.”</p><p>Gabriel whistles long and low. “Hells kiddo that’s some impressive eyesight.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen more than about eight with the naked eye. And they don’t. They call it the Pleiades.”</p><p>Sam eyes him curiously in the faint moonlight.</p><p>Gabriel sets his nearly empty cup aside and shuffles a little closer. “The brightest stars are Atlas, bottom left,” he points, trying not to shiver uncontrollably as Sam’s head nuzzles into his side. “Alcyone, Merope, Electra, Maia… Taygeta.” He points to each in turn. “I can just about make out Celaeno and… there Asterope uno and dos. Can’t quite resolve them myself. Maybe you’re seeing Pleione too. Beyond that you lost me Kiddo.” He shrugs a shoulder, jostling Sam in this process. Sam laughs, but he only presses closer. Gabriel draws in a breath. He’s shown Sam a lot before, but out here there’s so much more to see and he finds he kind of wants to show off. “Of course 7 is kind of bullshit by a coupla orders of magnitude. It’s more like 3,000 give or take. Barely outta their diapers.”</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh. “Did you just refer to billion year old stars as wearing diapers?”</p><p>“That’s where you’re wrong my Samilicious. Those precious little gems? Just a hair under 100 million year olds. Still wrapped up in their mama’s skirts.”</p><p>Sam draws in a breath beside him. He’s getting hot. Gabriel can tell. </p><p>“How do you know so much?” Sam asks finally, adding after a beat, “And don’t say you looked it up on Wikipedia just to get in my pants. It’s more than that.”</p><p>“Totally working though isn’t it?” Gabriel drawls, wiggling his eyebrows, though he knows Sam can barely see the motion in the pallid moonlight.</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh. “Maybe.”</p><p>He can feel Sam shifting beside him, one arm stretching over to run down his side.</p><p>He furrows his brow, realisation slowly dawning on him. “I swore I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”</p><p>“Tell me what? I’m not sure I’m following.”</p><p>“Yeesh Sam, I swear I did…” When he’s met with only silence, he realises that incredibly it’s never actually come up. And hells, it’s not like he likes talking about that time. As soothing as he finds it, being out here, being on the roof of the art building, staring up into the heavens, the rest he tries not to think about. So of course he never mentioned it to Sam. “Kiddo, this is what I did. You spend your days hole gazing, I studied black holes.”</p><p>Sam makes a sort of strangled sound at that. Gabriel can’t decide if it’s still in the realms of equine or has decended into the depths of marine mammals.</p><p>“I studied the stars Sam. Head up in the clouds most of the time, it made sense. High level maths and all that jazz. Relativity, Quantum mechanics, plasma physics. Unravelling the mysteries of the Universe…”</p><p>He trails off. Sam’s silent again, though Gabriel can feel his eyes boring into the side of his head, like he’s trying to drill inside and dissect his brain.</p><p>“Yeesh Sam I’m kinda insulted. You’re really that shocked?”</p><p>“Ah no, no of course not!” Sam says in a rush, a little too enthusiastically. “It’s just… you don’t exactly fit the clichéd Physicist persona.”</p><p>Gabriel makes a noise. “Half Astrophysicist, half Mathemagician. And hello, haven’t you seen Jurassic Park? Theorists can be sexy. Hella sexy.”</p><p>Sam’s laugh at that sounds kinda dirty. He’s totally picturing it. Gabriel’s childhood idol, subject of his bisexual awakening, stretched out and sweaty with his shirt undone. Mmm so’s Gabriel come to think of it.</p><p>But the noise Sam makes next doesn’t sound all hot and bothered. He isn’t thinking of Jeff Goldblum’s hot bod anymore, nor Gabriel’s for that matter. Gabriel thinks about undoing a few buttons. Maybe that’ll do the trick. Maybe that’ll lift Sam from this sudden funk.</p><p>“They took that away from you,” Sam breathes out. He sounds pissed, but mostly sad. Gabriel can’t bear it, he can’t.</p><p>He clicks his tongue and turns to face Sam. “They can’t take the sky from me, not even them.”</p><p>Sam snorts out a small laugh, but even that sounds all sorts of sad.</p><p>“Seriously Kiddo, what they took away from me was long hours hunched over a laptop, antisocial hours and spending way too much time in stuffy lecture theatres listening to some asshole drone on and on.” He blows out a breath. “In such dull places as Australia and Hawaii… Sipping Mai-Tai’s in the jaccuzzi and staring up at the sky. Maybe getting hot and sweaty with some sexy nerdy professor and…” </p><p>He trails off and clears his throat. Oops. Maybe he got a little carried away there.</p><p>“Hawaii?” Sam asks softly.</p><p>Gabriel sighs. “Scientific conferences. Always in the best places. All those clear skies, perfect for giant scopes. I was gonna travel the world.” He hisses in a breath as Sam curls into him. “Sure it sucks. Big time. Hells I’ve heard plenty about those conferences.” He whistles long and low. “Bunch of kinky geeky bastards. Lotsa long hard lengths and I aint talkin about the scopes. Woulda got laid big time. But…” He reaches out and runs a thumb over Sam’s high cheekbone. “But then I would have never met you. And call me crazy, but meeting you is worth more than all the exotic dick rubbing in the world.”</p><p>Lips still twitching in amusement, Sam leans into him. They kiss languidly for a few minutes before rolling onto their backs again and gazing up into the night sky. It’s a clear night. Seeing the best he could have hoped for at this time of year, the heavens opened up above them in all their blazing glory. His breath hitches at the sight. It’s fucking glorious. But he wasn’t lying. He wasn’t bullshitting to make Sam feel any better. He does miss it a little. But if he could go back he wouldn’t change it. Because it may have felt at the time like he was losing everything, but what he <em>gained</em>… Would Hawaii have been a blast? Sure. But all things equal, he’d rather be right here, side by side with the love of his life, staring up at the same sky. </p><p>Sam shifts. To his side at first, but then he’s climbing on top of him. Gabriel’s breath hitches again, his heart rate suddening ratching up a notch or two… hells a dozen. Their lips meet. It’s slow and languid again, but this time Sam’s hands are wandering, unbuttoning his shirt, sliding down his side. In his hair,  caressing his face. The kiss deepens, but the pace never quickens. They’re going to take their sweet time and it’s perfect. It’s… Sam’s hands are at his crotch, cupping him for a moment. He’s achingly hard. He pushes up into the palm of Sam’s hand. And then… fuck… Sam’s unbuttoning his slacks, drawing the material down. Gabriel lifts his hips, hissing in a breath as his bare ass settles back down on the cold metal beneath him. But it doesn’t matter, hells it doesn’t matter. He flails a little, until grunting with the effort, he manages to kick off his tennis shoes. They scatter on the ground. He wonders for a brief moment if they’ll ever be able to find them in the dark, but fuck that doesn’t matter either. His pants are pulled from his legs. He’s naked from the waist down, might as well be from the waist up too, as Sam has him completely undone. </p><p>Sam settles between his thighs. He doesn’t say a word, just makes a needy sound in the back of his throat. Gabriel sucks in a breath. His brain is all sorts of fried, but he’s not so lost that he doesn’t remember. He scrabbles for a moment in his shirt pocket. He can just about make out Sam’s furrowed brow. He thinks of making some comment about being a boy scout again, but he doesn’t want to break this spell. Instead he presses the foil packets into Sam’s hand and bites his lip as Sam sets them down on his chest and opens his fly. He doesn’t get undressed. Instead he just pulls himself free. Gabriel stares at the faint outline of his dick bobbing in the moonlight. That is hot, so hot. He’s so lost in that image that the cool slick finger pressing into his entrance comes as a momentary shocking surprise. He shudders. Sam leans forwards and captures his lips once more. </p><p>He relaxes into it easily, bringing his knees to his chest, giving Sam better access. He’s utterly exposed like this. He can feel the gentle breeze on his bare ass, especially around the slick opening. But oddly it doesn’t feel weird, doesn’t feel wrong. If anything it’s just a pleasant coolness on his overheated skin. He should perhaps worry about someone finding him like this, all spread out and wanton on the hood of a classic car. He almost giggles at the thought of it. Did he just become a Penthouse special spread? Only he’s distracted an instant later by Sam’s lips on his, by a second slick finger pressing inside. </p><p>Sam takes him slowly apart piece by piece, opening and stretching him carefully… lovingly. Caressing him inside and out. It’s the most exquisite torture. Gabriel wants to let go, yell his pleasure into the night, but the risk of discovery is too great, so he whines into Sam’s shoulder instead. Sam takes pity on him, withdraws his fingers at last. And then there it is, the blunt head of Sam’s cock, nudging at his entrance. Sam pauses. Of course he does. He always does. Gabriel wants to cry, goddamn cry. He doesn’t understand the urge, but there it is. It’s too much. Sam’s too much. This love. This care. </p><p>“Please.” It’s all he can stutter out. </p><p>He hopes Sam doesn’t catch the waver in his voice. It’s not sexy, not sexy at all. </p><p>His breath hitches as Sam slides home. Burying deep within him, until all he can feel is Sam. The throbbing length within him, the lean, muscular body above him, the warm breath ghosting over his skin. How long they stay like that he doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t want to charge ahead, doesn’t want this night to ever end. And then Sam’s moving. His world narrows to them, to the touch of skin on skin, to ragged breaths, to that sweet perfect friction. And at the same time it expands. It makes no sense. He looks up at those billions upon billions of stars above them and it feels like they’re so small and insignificant and yet they’re the most significant thing of all. A tiny speck in the vast ocean of the Universe… But they… them, at this moment in time... they’re <em>everything.</em> His head is spinning, thoughts spiralling like his words usually do. </p><p>This is not how he saw this playing out and yet it’s better than he could have ever imagined. It always is with Sam. Always. Is he crying? Oh holy shit, he is. When did that happen? He’s glad of the darkness. He’s not sure he wants Sam to see him like this. For one thing, he might stop. Might mistake his tears for sadness or pain. But that’s far from the truth. He never thought he’d be a cry fucker. But apparently, in this moment, he is.  </p><p>The pressure builds. Sam’s taking it slowly, but even so he finds himself perched over that precipice all too soon. He holds back, desperate to draw this feeling out. But Sam thrusts deeper, hitting that perfect note. He feels it, even through the thin layer separating them, that warm rush, Sam spilling his pleasure right at the very core of his being. He can’t hold back any longer. He teeters on the edge... and then he’s soaring, right up into the vast heavens above.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam draws in a deep breath, feeling it fill his lungs and letting it out slowly. His heart is still racing, nerve endings still sparking as he comes down from the most incredible high. It feels like a dream and yet the cold metal beneath him, the warm body pressed into his side, the sound of crickets churruping, mingling with their heavy breaths, belies the truth. Gabriel shivers beside him, whines as he moves momentarily away, but soon settles with a heavy sigh as Sam draws the snuggle blanket over his nearly naked body.</p><p>He looks up, he can’t help it. The light show above them is impossible to ignore. Countless evenings they’ve curled under this very blanket on the roof of the Art Building, but it was never quite like this. He feels his heart swell in his chest as he takes it all in, the view above him, the man curled into his side. His heart feels full to bursting.</p><p>The feeling permeates his being again. This is it. It’s meant to be. Is it really too soon? He feels like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He draws in a breath. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to rush things. They’ve been through a lot. Perhaps it’s best to let the dust settle. To get through the rest of his course. Then they can think of the future, though he’s sure he doesn’t need to think much at all. It should be a scary feeling, but with Gabriel, forever has never been a terrifying thought.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>“Don’t say it.”</p><p>“What? I didn’t say a word.”</p><p>“You didn’t need to. I can hear you thinking it.”</p><p>Gabriel chuckles heartily. “Oh come on Sam. I can’t help it.”</p><p>“He can never know Gabriel.”</p><p>Gabriel tries to keep it in, but he snorts out a laugh that’s worthy of Sam. “Oh God but his face, can’t you picture his face?”</p><p>Sam makes a strangled noise. Gabriel just chuckles more loudly. He can’t help it.</p><p>“Sam we fucked <em>on</em> your brother’s car.”</p><p>There’s that noise again. Good lord, it’s hilarious.</p><p>“Jesus Gabe, Dean would… fuck he’d kill us both. Just… for once… can you keep your mouth shut.”</p><p>“Uh… no?”</p><p>“Damn it Gabe, I swore, I swore I wouldn’t do it.”</p><p>Gabriel grins at him, even though he knows Sam can’t see his face in the dark. “Pfft it’s a technicality. He said <em>in</em>, we did the dirty <em>on</em>. No rules were broken sooooooooooooo…”</p><p>Gabriel can feel it, can feel the bitchface that’s directed at his head. Holy cats, that just makes him want to laugh even more. He can hear Sam huff out an exhasperated breath.</p><p>“Sam, if it bothers you that much, then why did you spread me open and take me on the hood of your-”</p><p>“Because I couldn’t help it ok?!”</p><p>Gabriel can’t help the smile that spreads across his features. He’s irresistable. Good to know.</p><p>“Fuck Gabriel. Can you swear… just swear you won’t say anything.”</p><p>“And why would I do that?”</p><p>Sam lets out a strangled breath. “Because Dean made me swear on something I loved as much as he loves his frickin car.” There’s a pause and then Sam lets it all out on one breath. “I swore on your hair Gabe, I swore on your goddamn hair!”</p><p>Gabriel swallows. Maybe he lets out a little yelp. So sue him. He should be pissed, oh boy should he. But he wanted this just as much as Sam and he knows what a pissy ass Dean-o can be. “Ah good plan… let’s not… good plan. Just between us.”</p><p>Unbidden, a smile curves his lips upwards. Actually this is better. Anytime Dean-o’s being the massive big bro jerk he can be, Gabriel can just picture it, picture his bare ass cheeks sullying the hood of his precious car. He smirks, leaning his face against the cool pane of the window, feeling the vibration of the motion. He’s exhausted. He’s well fucked. And he’s the happiest he’s ever been. He finds his eyes closing, drifting off to the purr of the well tuned engine, to the feel of Sam’s fingers carding through his hair a moment later. The soft smile never leaving his lips.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Further info: yeah so May is not exactly, or indeed <em>at all</em> the right time to observe the Pleiades. I may have frivilously written this because I wanted Gabriel to refer to the stars in the pleiades as baby stars. And then realised I was being stupid re time of year. Apologies. Please assume a fairly large shift in the night sky in this AU compared to our universe. Yes I did totally prioritise story telling over scientific accuracy. And yes as a former scientist I should be throroghly ashamed of myself.</p><p>Apologies for the delay in posting. I am being so so slow with writing at the moment. As such I'm not sure exactly when the next update will be. Hopefully no more than a week. See you soon.</p><p>Oh almost forgot, the apocalypse ref. Just a little silliness to brighten this quarentine and do assume that Gabriel and Chuck had this hypothetical discussion during their college years and Gabriel is totally stealing his material.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*warning*: so sorry I should have put this in earlier.  🤦 I'm an idiot. That's not the warning, this is... Brief mention of seizures but non occur.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>SAM </p><p>Sam gently brushes his fingers through Gabriel’s hair and presses the softest of kisses to his brow. He looks pale, gaunt almost. He’s losing weight, muscle mass. It’s more rapid than Sam thought it would be. They replaced his IV with a feeding tube a few days back. Gabriel’s getting enough to survive, but barely more than that.</p><p>He sighs and settles back in the chair, dropping his bag to the floor beside him. He’ll make up for it… if he wakes… <em>when</em>… when he wakes. </p><p>There’s a small table pushed against the far wall, laiden with all the gifts people have brought for him and a few things from home. There are flowers of course, one or two books that Cas brought, a few photographs. An album from their childhood, loose photos that the deputy, Jimmy, brought in from all those years ago, a large frame holding the ridiculous image of Gabriel surrounded by his friends on New Years Eve, a sparkly blue tinsel wig sitting askew atop his head. An inappropriately raunchy card from Gabriel’s Cougars, clearly a modified risque Valentines. Gabriel would… Gabriel <em>will</em> love it. And beside that, a growing stack of chocolate boxes. Sam can’t look at them without remembering that time right before New Years, when Gabriel devoured almost a whole box in one sitting, one intended not for him but for Ellen, and attempted to hide the evidence up his shirt. </p><p>He’ll make up for it in no time, make himself sick trying to inhale box after box. Sam lets out a small laugh, taking hold of Gabriel’s hand. </p><p>There’s a soft knock at the door and Sam looks over to see Chuck hovering in the doorway, guitar slung over his back and what looks like an electric base held in his hand. Sam furrows his brow. Why would he bring that? It’s not like Sam knows how to play. When Chuck fails to move from his position, Sam climbs to his feet and meets him at the door, taking the guitar that Chuck presses into his hand.</p><p>“Uh, what’s this?”</p><p>Chuck’s eyebrows raise almost to his hairline. “Oh ah… it’s just. It’s Gabriel’s.” He gestures wildly at the guitar like that’s explanation enough.</p><p>“I’m not following.” </p><p>Sam bites his lip, eyes drawing over the surface of the guitar. It’s a little old and battered, definitely well loved. Sam doesn’t know anything about guitars, but the label Fender catches his eye. It’s a good make. Sam can’t remember ever seeing it. Has Chuck had it all this time? He looks questioningly at Gabriel’s old friend. Chuck looks away, shuffling uncomfortably under his gaze.</p><p>“Chuck?”</p><p>Chuck lets out a long breath. “I didn’t know ok? I mean who could have known? The guy was an ass, but I just figured, hey there are plenty of asses in this world, what’s another and I thought it wasn’t right and that he shouldn’t do that and- I swear if I’d known I would have… That’s to say I couldn’t have but-”</p><p>Sam sets the guitar to the side and steps up to Chuck letting his hands fall to Chuck’s shaking shoulders. “Slow down. It’s ok.”</p><p>Chuck’s breathing heavily, trembling under Sam’s hands, eyes darting wildly about. He’s on the verge of a panic attack. Sam leads him over to one of the chairs, helps him take off his guitar and settles him down. He holds off. He’s desperate to know the story that Chuck has to tell, but he knows he can’t push the man. He understands more than most. Instead he kneels in front of him, rubbing circles into his forearms as he takes a few shuddering breaths.</p><p>“Whatever it is, it’s ok,” Sam says carefully after a few long moments. </p><p>After a beat Chuck nods his head slowly, pale blue eyes finally meeting his worried gaze. “It was him. The one who…” He takes in another of those sharp breaths, eyes darting over to Gabriel’s still form. “The one who did that…”</p><p>His voice trails off. Sam swallows, a cold dread settling in his stomach. He tries not to show it, gives Chuck the barest hint of a reassuring smile.</p><p>Chuck lets out another long breath. “It was months ago. I saw the advert and I recognised it. I figured… I figured Gabriel must have been really desperate to sell it to the guy, and the… the asshole confirmed it. Boasted about the… he made fun of him… said awful things… and I didn’t want to give that a-hole anything, but I couldn’t bear the thought of Gabriel being so desperate he would let this go. I… I was keeping it for his birthday… thought I’d surprise him. Things weren’t great between us when I… but I still wanted… and then New Year and… Shit Sam I’m so sorry, I had no idea!”</p><p>Sam stares at him a moment, mind furiously processing what Chuck just told him. Why would Gabriel sell something that meant so- He sucks in a breath. Months ago… <em>Fuck</em>. The brush. The ridiculously expensive brush that Gabriel tried to woo him with. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Gabriel was so desperate to impress him that he sold something that meant a hell of a lot to him. Only for Sam to throw it back in his face.</p><p>“Fuck”. </p><p>Chuck stiffens beneath him. He looks like he’s just been slapped in the face. <em>Shit</em>.</p><p>“Sorry Chuck,” Sam says hastily, resuming the movements of his hands. “Sorry I just… I think Gabriel sold it because of me.” Chuck makes a little noise, that sounds half sob, half whine. “It’s ok… Chuck, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t know. And I’m guessing Gabriel didn’t know… God I didn’t know they had contact that far back…”</p><p>Sam trails off. He hasn’t said much, the one who… won’t talk now to anyone but his lawyer. They have a name. Don Roman. They know his background. Kid of some jumped up politicians. Both of his parents. But there’s little in his history to suggest why all of this happened. Why it escalated so fast. Some of the blanks were filled in by Charlie and Natalie, but it’s likely they won’t know the whole story until Gabriel wakes up. <em>If</em> he wakes up. Sam swallows again.</p><p>“Have you told the Sheriff?” </p><p>Chuck nods his head, then shakes it. “Uh, one of the Deputies. Um, Jimmy?”</p><p>Sam nods his head slowly. “Thank you.”</p><p>Chuck blinks up at him.</p><p>“Thank you for doing what you did. I know things were… Gabriel told me what happened… after I found out. A lot of people wouldn’t have… Thank you for still caring and…”</p><p>Chuck lets out a small sad laugh. “I… I never stopped. Gabriel was a giant asshole but-” He stops abruptly and winces. But at Sam’s small smile he continues. “He was my best friend. I never stopped caring about him and I always hoped that… you know...” He shrugs one narrow shoulder. “I always hoped that things would work out.” A brilliant smile spreads across his lips. Sam can’t help but smile back.</p><p>“Can you… do you think you can…” Sam lets go and lifts up Chuck’s guitar. “I don’t know if… I don’t know if it will help but…”</p><p>Sam climbs to his feet and pulls out the other chair as Chuck spends a few moments adjusting the tuning on his instrument.</p><p>The first few notes are halting, his voice wavers, but he doesn’t break. Doesn’t break down like the last time. Sam feels something in his chest shift as he listens to the beautiful melody. It’s a song he doesn’t know. He wonders if it’s one of Chuck’s own. There’s something in his voice, in the way the lyrics flow. There’s a depth of emotion there, something deeply personal. Sam reaches out and takes hold of Gabriel’s hand, feels the reassuring warmth of it in his palm. He doesn’t know if Gabriel can hear his friend, can hear the words that seem to resonate through the air. Hear the love in those lyrics, in the voice that’s speaking directly to him, pleading for his friend to come back.</p><p><em>Please come back</em>, Sam echoes in his head. <em>We need you… Please.</em></p><p>~~~</p><p>DEAN</p><p>
  <em>You have got to be kidding me.</em>
</p><p>She stares at him with wide eyes and a slightly manic grin. He stares right back.</p><p>“Where’s Chuck?” he asks after a beat. After it’s pretty damn clear that she’s just going to continue to stare at him without offering a word of explanation.</p><p>“Oh he’s busy at the hospital. Sam asked him to go play a little concert to Gabriel.” She gets that weird dreamy look in her eyes when she says his brother’s name… and Gabriel’s for that matter. It’s really fucking disturbing. “But you’re in luck!” </p><p>She squeezes past him, digging in her bag at the same time. Dean resists the urge to block her way. Fuck’s sake, this is already going to the crapper and they haven’t even begun. </p><p>She brandishes a fluffy notebook and pen at him. “He sent me to take notes. I am the absolute best at taking notes.”</p><p>Dean scrubs a hand over his face. Damn it, Chuck was instrumental to the plan. But they’re going to be taking enough risks as it is. There’s no way he can bring her in on it. From what little he knows of her, she’s batshit. Luke’s stopped pulling out drawers and is regarding them with obvious amusement. Bobby… well shit he doesn’t want to look over to see exactly what Bobby thinks of this turn of events.</p><p>“Look, ah… Becky is it?” </p><p>She holds up her hand to stall him. “I know, I know exactly what you’re going to say.” Dean raises his eyebrows. “And I know all about your super secret plan, or at least that you have a super secret plan and I bet it’s just brilliant. And I am the best, absolutely the best at keeping secrets.”</p><p>Dean sucks in a breath. Christ sake Chuck. What the fuck was the dude thinking?</p><p>“Seriously, I read super secret spoilers for the grand finale of Game of Thrones a month before the show aired. A whole <em>month</em>. And I never breathed a word.” She says it like she just spent a month in a PoW camp, keeping state secrets from the goddamn enemy under a barage of torture.</p><p>“Look Becky,” he tries again. “I don’t… I don’t doubt that, but this could get pretty damn serious and it’s best… it’s best you don’t know. If this goes south and the shit hits the fan, the less you know...” the less you can blab… “the safer you’ll be. Plausible deniablity.”</p><p>Becky presses her lips into a thin determined line. “I know what I am, okay? I'm a loser. In school, in college, in life. You think I don’t hear what people say? That I don’t see? I know… I know you think I’m… I’m too silly to be of any use… but Gabriel’s my friend. He… he always stuck up for me… and I can’t just sit around and do nothing when he’s lying there in hospital and Sam’s-“</p><p>“Ok ok.”</p><p>He can practically feel Bobby’s eyes, boring into the side of his head. He can hear Luke’s chuckle of amusement. It’s quite likely that he’ll live to regret it, but he can’t… he can’t stand to see the lady cry. So fucking sue him.</p><p>“Just ah, help yourself to a drink and take a seat. The others should be by in a few.”</p><p>Just on cue, the bell rings again. He spares Luke an irritated glance as he makes his way over to the door. He’s back to rifiling through the drawers, chuckling away to himself all the time.</p><p>“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Dean can’t help but snap.</p><p>Luke waits until Dean opens the door to reply. Of course he fucking does.</p><p>“Oh just looking for your kink drawer. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”</p><p>Dean squeezes his eyes shut and only just resists banging his head against the open door. He can feel Benny pat him on the shoulder on the way past. Can hear Jo call over his head, “Don’t be a dick Luke.” He’s pretty sure he can actually fucking hear Becky’s ears prick up and he’s damned sure that was Bobby muttering something under his breath.</p><p>He’s not wrong. This has got to be the most idiotic thing Dean’s ever done. He thinks of cancelling the whole thing, telling everyone it was just a ruse to get them all together to drink bourbon and reminise. But he can’t get the picture out of his head. Of Gabriel going down, blood spilling from the open wound in his side. The look of agony on his brother’s face. Fuck he can’t ever get that out of his head. All that hurt that’s been done to his family. He won’t stand for it. Those responsible need to pay. And these crazy son’s of bitches around him, they’re going to help Dean make sure that happens…</p><p>Or they’re all gonna go down trying.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>The sunlight is filtering through the leaves, glinting off the little wavelets across the expanse of the lake. Glinting off the droplets of water in Sam’s eyelashes. Mmm hmm, that is… That is the picture of perfection. He blinks the water away. They stare at each other a moment and then Sam’s pressing a wet kiss to the end of his nose. Gabriel’s just about to surge forward, see how long they can keep afloat as he explores a little under the water. All that slippery wet skin. Hells yeah. But before his can wrap his limbs around Sam like so many slithering tentacles from the deep, Sam’s off again, darting through the water, laughing and calling over his shoulder. </p><p>“Last one out turns into a frog.”</p><p>“Don’t you mean, turns into a pumpkin Cinderella?” Gabriel yells across the water. He chuckles loudly and makes a ribbiting noise. “Ok Tiana. Good thing you like kissing frogs!” </p><p>Sam doesn’t slow. Gabriel can just see his bare buttocks breaching the water every now and then. He cannot miss this, cannot miss this at all.</p><p>He’s a good swimmer. He doesn’t have much hope of catching Sam given the head start, but he’s definitely gaining on him. He can hear Sam’s laughter, egging him on. The sun’s warming his back and his ass a little too. He wonders for a moment if he remembered to put on sunscreen, but… he can’t quite remember, can’t remember much before this. That’s kind of weird. He shrugs and keeps on swimming, eyes fixed on the figure in front of him. Shouldn’t they have reached the shore by now?</p><p>A wave washes over him, sudden and bracing. He chokes back the water that’s trying to get in his lungs. What the hell? Where did that come from? He pauses, treads water, eyes casting around him. The pit drops out of his stomach.</p><p>No. No that makes no sense at all.</p><p>There’s nothing around him, nothing but water in every direction, stretching from horizon to horizon. Terror takes a hold of him. He casts about, flailing in the water. It stings his eyes, tries to go up his nose. </p><p>“Sam? Sam? Saaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmm?!!!!”</p><p>He was here. He was just here. Gabriel takes in a deep breath and dives under, ignoring the stinging pain as he opens his eyes. Nothing. Nothing. There’s nothing beneath him but a vast deep blue. </p><p>Nonononono. Saaaaaaaaammmm.</p><p>He needs to get back to the surface. Maybe if he looks hard enough he can spot him. Maybe. He kicks. But nothing happens. </p><p>No no. This can’t be happening.</p><p>He’s a good swimmer... this can’t be happening. It’s like there’s an invisible force holding him under. He kicks with all his might, but he can’t break the surface. If anything he’s sinking further into the deep blue abyss.</p><p><em>Sam. Sam. God where are you?</em> </p><p>He thrashes, curses in his head, kicking and pushing. But no matter how hard he struggles, there’s nothing he can do. He stops abruptly, floating weightless, sinking ever deeper. The light is dimming. His hope fades with it. He closes his eyes, willing it to be over. </p><p>And then he hears it. It’s faint. He thinks for a moment that he imagined it, but no there it is again. So familiar. <em>Sam?</em> Gathering all his strength, all that he has left, he pushes towards the sound. The force is still holding him back, but he struggles against it through will alone. Until finally, <em>finally</em>… it starts to give.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>It’s getting late. Chuck left hours ago. Sam’s not sure if it helped, but there was something in the doing that he thinks maybe helped them both. Jo couldn’t make it today, but she promised to visit tomorrow and bring her laptop so she can watch one of Gabriel’s favorite movies by his side. Sam’s not sure which she’ll pick, but just being there… doing something. Maybe it will help too. Cas sat with him for some time, talking about old times. Not the painful memories, but the few good memories they share. Sam left him to it, not wanting to intrude. He joined Bonnie in the cafeteria, sharing few words, even in sign, but taking comfort in the company anyway. </p><p>He should really be heading home. He’s exhausted and he wants to be back here early tomorrow. But… He rummages in his rucksack bringing out the old tattered book. He’s not sure if it’s Gabriel’s or his own. Judging by how dogeared it looks, he can hazzard a guess. He absently rubs a thumb over the back of Gabriel’s hand, balancing the book on his lap and turning to the first page. It was so obvious when he thought about it. So obvious what to read.</p><p>“In a distant and second-hand set of dimensions, in an astral plane that was never meant to fly, the curling star-mists waver and part… See… Great A’Tuin the turtle comes, swimming slowly through…”</p><p>He thinks he imagines it at first. The motion is so minute, barely the tiniest twitch, almost imperceptable. His sleep deprived brain is imagining things.</p><p>“…the interstellar gulf, hydrogen frost on his- on his-”</p><p>But there it is again. He stutters to a stop, staring down at the hand in his. Nothing happens for long moments. He almost convinces himself that it’s an aberration, a trick. Surely it was his own muscles. He’s had a slight tremor in his hands ever since… He swallows, shakes his head.</p><p>“…on his ponderous limbs, his huge and ancient shell pocked with meteor cr-” </p><p>He drops the book. It slides off his lap and thumps to the ground. He didn’t imagine that. He definitely didn’t imagine that. Gabriel’s hand is twitching in his own. Fear grips him. Is Gabriel… is he about to have a seizure?</p><p>His other hand hovers over the emergency button. There’s nothing for a moment; Gabriel’s hand stills.</p><p>“Gabriel? Gabe. Are you… Can you hear me?”</p><p>Sam’s heart is in his throat, fear and hope colliding in his body, like he’s at the center of a maelstrom.</p><p>“Gabe?”</p><p>He gently squeezes Gabriel’s hand, hoping against hope for something, <em>anything</em>…</p><p>Fingers tighten briefly around him. Brief, but definite… deliberate. This is no random twitch, no absent firing of neurons. Staring at the hand in his, Sam slams his palm down on the button, bearly registering the sound of the alarm, barely registering the sounds of rapidly approaching footfall. He just stares down at his lover’s hand in his, as fingers tighten about him once more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See I can be a nice author sometimes ;).</p><p>Re posting schedule. Again I don't know. Writing is not going at all, but I felt the need to post this. I'll try to not be longer than a week for the next update. See you soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*WARNING*: homophobia, verbal and a little physical, online verbal abuse, death threats and threats of sexual violence (non explicit), implied transphobia from randoms on the internet </p><p>Credit at the end Re Gabriel PSA</p><p>Ok that all sounds miserable. There is however some pretty smutty smut mixed in too. Hope you enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>And… ACTION!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man spins around, lips twisting up on one side into a lopsided smile, mustache shifting jauntily on his upper lip, eyes sparkling with glee.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Heeeeeeeellllllllloooooo… T.Rickster here. Purveyor of fantasies, major-domo of desires.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He winks at the camera once, before his expression becomes more serious. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s come to my attention that some folks have been spreading the message that those desires are wrong. And I’m here to tell you that they…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He pauses for dramatic effect, drawing in a breath through his nose that makes his nostrils flare, golden eyes narrowing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“…are great big bags of dicks! Listen up, cupcake. Yes I’m talkin to you. Live your life to the full. Love who you want to love. Fuck who you want to fuck… proviso, they want to fuck you. If you happen to want to spread chocolate sauce all over some freakishly tall and muscular nerdy artistic type with a giant moose dick and-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Uh isn’t that… Um… I think maybe that’s a little personal.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man on screen rolls his eyes, and throws his arms out dramatically.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Jeeze Louise. I was on a roll Kubrick.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You were on something…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He stares just off camera for a moment, then lets out a long equally dramatic sigh.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeesh, fine, daddy-o. From the top.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He spares the camera one long suffering look, before spinning back around.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Daddy-o? Really? You’re older than me...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The only answer the man gives is a low, raspy and somewhat dirty sounding chuckle.</em>
  <em>There’s an irritated huff from behind the camera. Then a resigned sigh.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“From the top… ACTION…”</em>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>2 WEEKS BEFORE THE EXHIBITION</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>“Fucking Homo.”</p><p>He’s knocked to the side, stumbling slightly before he catches himself with a hand to the wall, shoulder flaring briefly with pain.</p><p>He rubs the sore spot and narrows his eyes at the retreating figure.</p><p>“Wow, you know your biology. I’m impressed.”</p><p>The figure halts, turns and glares at him.</p><p>Gabriel chuckles and leans against the wall. He circles one index finger in front of his face, lips curling up into a lopsided smirk. “Me Homo Sapian.” He points the finger at the man. “Ah you… well I wouldn’t sell yourself short. I’m guessing… Homo Erectus at the very least… But,” he pouts and taps his finger on his lower lip, desperately trying to hold back the laugh that wants to break free at the thunderous look on the man’s face, “… since you’ve clearly been popping the gym candy pretty hard, I’m not entirely sure you can actually get it up anymore.”</p><p>Oh that did it. The man’s striding towards him, fists clenched at his sides, nostrils flaring in anger. A charging bull, definitely a charging bull. But without the actual intimidation factor. He’s right up in Gabriel’s personal space a moment later. Trying to crowd him back into the wall. All red faced and heaving breaths. Gabriel’s pretty sure he’s seen this play out before… in a porno. Closet case? No doubt.</p><p>Gabriel looks up at the angry face looming down at him and wiggles his eyebrows. He can’t help it, he really can’t.</p><p>“No making out in the hallways!”</p><p>The clipped British accent trails off into muttered annoyance. </p><p>The towering hulk of testosterone, steps back hurriedly, eyes widening in horror. His <em>face</em>. Gabriel can’t help the loud chuckle that escapes him. It’s absolutely hilarious. </p><p>Professor Ketch, stares pointedly at them both before striding off down the hallway, still muttering under his breath. Something about overly hormonal students and frisky janitors. Pulease, Gabriel has cleaned the man’s office enough times, found enough kinky shit to open an emporium. Sam’s 3D media tutor is fooling no-one, absolutely no-one. </p><p>The kid stares at him for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. Gabriel wonders if he’s coming back in for round two. His lips curl upwards. He looks into Gabriel’s amused face, then he makes a horrendous retching sound and spits on Gabriel’s shoes, before spinning on his heel and stalking away. </p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes. Way to prove his point. Huffing out a breath, he makes his way along the hallway to the janitor’s closet and lets himself in.</p><p>He grabs some paper napkins and briefly wets them over by the small crappy sink behind the shelves, grabbing some disinfectant spray before slouching down in the rickety chair. He sighs and toes off his shoes, making a face as he cleans the spittle from the surface. </p><p>It could have been worse. It could have been his face. Honestly, he thought it would be. That would have been all sorts of revolting. His shoes he can handle. </p><p>Since the video went viral… Ok not viral, but it has definitely done the rounds around Campus… Things have been… interesting. It was to be expected. A few insults here, a little hurled abuse there. Nothing he can’t handle. Online it’s been a little worse of course. People are far more verbose hidden behind their keyboards. A death threat here, a death threat there. Maybe a few slightly less savoury things about what they would do to his body. Not fun things. Actually a few of those too. He hasn’t been propositioned this frequently since the Casa Erotica website went live. It’s at times admittedly a little freaky. But mostly flattering. Mostly. It’s fine.</p><p>He’s had to block a person or too, report the odd comment, usually with the automated, “this hasn’t violated community standards” message coming back. Because apparently threatening to violate him against his will… no biggie. He supposes it isn’t in the grand scheme of things. Bunch of dickbags spouting vile crap in a vain attempt to get noticed. It’s what these assholes do. It’s par for the course if you put shit out there that the barely evolved boneheads don’t agree with. Like suggesting it might be ok for people to love who they want to love. Or use whichever bathroom they feel most comfortable using. Such heinous crimes. He rolls his eyes. He’s willing to bet that the vast majority of the bullshit is coming from peeps that are several states away. Probably a whole bunch from trolls who never leave their mother’s basement. Maybe a few terfs thrown into the mix just for funsies. It’s fine. He’s fine.</p><p>He draws in a long breath through his nose. He wants to be home. Home with Sam. Wants to curl up in his arms, maybe fall asleep on the couch watching Netflix. Biting his lip, he sets the shoe down and turns around to stare at the photograph pinned above the desk. The one he took of them on their first date. Just look at that giant, awkward, gloriously beautiful nerd. Towering a whole head above him. That shouldn’t be hot. But it is. Fuck is it. He reaches forward and runs a finger down the image. Holy cats what a beautiful man. How the hells did he get so lucky? </p><p>He sighs and turns back. He’s got work to do. Might as well get started. Sooner he gets to work, the sooner he can get back to Sam.</p><p>He shoves his feet in his shoes and forces himself to get up, gathering the usual supplies on his cart before pushing it towards the door. He pauses, taking in a few deep breaths. Oh for the love of… this is ridiculous. It was funny. Not… Funny for God’s sake. And it’ll all blow over soon enough. Zachy will graduate and move on with his sorry existence. And things will go back to normal. The main thing is, in the meantime, he’s done what he hoped to do. He’s given people… hope. Or at least a little of it. And maybe in flipping off the hulking beast of righteous fury, he’s turned the target away from others.</p><p>Is being smack bang in front of that target fun? Not exactly. But Hells, he’s been through worse. He can weather it. It’s a drop in the ocean compared to what others are dealing with.</p><p>Steeling himself, he pushes through the door, with a lazy smirk on his face and his head held high.</p><p>~~~</p><p>He’s worn out, more worn out than he realised. The last few days have been… What’s the opposite of fun? That. Maybe he underestimated the toll it was taking on him. But it doesn’t matter. The end of term is fast approaching, just two weeks left. One week of working to the bone. For Sam at least. He’s pretty sure he’s not going to be getting much boning during that time, but he’ll take what he can get. Then it’s exam week cum handing in week cum setting up the exhibition week. That’s gonna be fun. The big reveal. If Zachy and his minions are this bad now, when he actually first lays eyes on Sam’s final piece… That’s gonna be doozy alright. Fun times ahead. </p><p>But after that… He lets out a long breath as he sheds his cargo jacket and starts unbuttoning his uniform. After that, they have the whole Summer in front of them. All those blissful warm Summer days. Though he’s going to make damn sure they don’t leave the apartment, for like a week. No stress, no exams, no assholes… ok one asshole… his. He snorts out a laugh, stifling it with a hand over his mouth as he passes their room. </p><p>He quickly takes care of his nightly ablutions before quietly padding through to their room. Sam’s completely out of it, sprawled naked across their bed, snoring softly, drooling on the bed sheets. Fuck that’s beautiful. He’s obviously been tossing and turning, gotten himself a little tangled up, bare ass half out of the sheets. Gabriel’s oh so tempted to wake him up for a quickie. Maybe ride that gorgeous giant dick until all his troubles fall away. But damn, Sam desperately needs the rest and he looks far too adorable to disturb. So instead Gabriel sheds the rest of his clothing, pads over, and slips into bed beside him. </p><p>By ‘slip’, he means, ‘gingerly scrambles onto the slither of remaining space’ and by ‘in’, he most definitely means ‘on’. Given that all the bedding is currently tangled around his boyfriend’s ludicrously long limbs. But as he shuffles a little closer, Sam stirs. He doesn’t wake, but he rolls over, making a ridiculously cute snuffling noise. Not one to miss the golden opportunity, Gabriel snuggles closer. And by ‘closer’ he means ‘on’. He throws a thigh over Sam’s middle and nestles his head on Sam’s chest, letting out a sigh of relief, letting the steady beat of Sam’s heart wash through him, calm him. All his troubles falling away with the reassuring sound. </p><p>So things might not exactly be hunky dory right now, but he has this, he always has this. </p><p>He’s home.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam takes in a deep breath and stands back. There. It’s… it’s finally done. His eyes drift to the mirror, flushing furiously as he takes in Gabriel’s sprawled form. Forcing himself to not get too distracted… not quite yet, he critically eyes the paint on his panel, comparing the flushed hue to the gorgeous rosy glow of his boyfriend’s skin. Perfect… he’s finally got it just right.</p><p>He closes his eyes, takes a moment to center himself, then removes his headphones. He stutters in a breath, just listens for a beat or two. It was too distracting before, but he missed hearing it… those beautiful sounds, sounds of his lover elliciting pleasure from his own body. The harsh breaths, the muttered obsenities. His name, called over and over…</p><p>He can’t hold back any more. It’s been difficult enough as it is. He grabs a wet wipe and hastily cleans the paint from his hands. He’s pretty sure he’s still got some on his face, probably a little in his hair, but it doesn’t matter.</p><p>He closes the distance in no time, but pauses, hovering there, just watching. Gabriel doesn’t notice him at first, lost as he is in a haze of pleasure. His legs are spread wide, toy moving in and out of his body as his hand roams over his naked chest, over his abs, down his hip, rolling his balls briefly before venturing upwards again. He doesn’t touch his cock, not yet, just leaves it there ignored, straining up towards his belly, leaking at the tip. He wants to draw it out for Sam. Like the last time, all those months ago. To give Sam time to work. He’s even rolled on a cock ring this time, just to be sure.</p><p><em>Christ</em>. He’s so beautiful like this. So damn beautiful. Flushed and a little sweaty, hair falling softly about his features. Sam’s almost overwhelmed by all that Gabriel has to give.</p><p>Eyelashes flutter; golden eyes peer up at him from heavily lidded eyes. Gabriel pauses. He doesn’t say a word, but he raises one brow in question. Sam nods his head. Gabriel’s lips spread into a lazy smile. But he resumes stroking the toy into his channel, fingers coming up to play with his own nipple. He’s putting on a show still. A show just for Sam.</p><p>But as alluring as it is, Sam doesn’t want to just be a spectator anymore. He hastily sheds his paint splattered sweatpants, boxers and undershirt and closes the remaining distance between them, until he’s standing between Gabriel’s spread legs. He reaches down, placing a palm over the hand that’s moving the toy in and out of Gabriel’s body. </p><p>Gabriel makes a whining noise in the back of his throat. His eyes fix on Sam, as he bats the hand away. Sam raises an eyebrow in question. Gabriel’s really not… really not going to let him remove the toy? He honestly thought that his boyfriend would be demanding a good hard fucking by now, but apparently Gabriel has other ideas. He grabs hold of Sam’s hip, pulling at him. Sam frowns, not getting exactly what he means. </p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes and Sam snorts out a laugh.</p><p>“I’m not a mind reader Gabe. What do you want me to do?”</p><p>Gabriel makes a face at him, like he’s seriously questioning Sam’s intelligence and finding him sorely lacking. Sam can’t help but snort out another laugh.</p><p>Gabriel lets out a heavy sigh. “Wanna suck your huge donkey dick Sam, what’s not to get?”</p><p>The next laugh comes out sounding a little strangled.</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes again, but then he scoots down a bit, motioning Sam to kneel astride his middle, grabbing hold of Sam’s hips as he scrambles up to comply. Sam barely has time to adjust his stance before he’s being engulfed in a perfect, wet heat. <em>Fuck</em>. Gabriel takes him almost to the root in one swift motion, swallowing around the head of his cock, nose buried in his pubic hair. Holy fuck. It feels… it feels incredible. </p><p>Hands grasp at his hips, forcibly moving him back and forth. Sam swallows as he gets what Gabriel wants. No he… he can’t. He pulls out, staring down at Gabriel.</p><p>“You want me to…”</p><p>“I want you to fuck my face, yes.”</p><p> <em>Christ.</em> “What if… what if I hurt you? What if you can’t breathe?”</p><p>There’s that eyeroll again. </p><p>“Yeesh Sam, this is so not my first rodeo. Any issues and I’ll smack you hard on the ass ok?”</p><p>Sam raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Right… ok, I might do that anyway. Um,” Gabriel makes a considering face. “I’ll squeeze your balls.”</p><p>Sam levels the bitchiest face he can muster at that.</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes heavenwards once more. “Ok fine, I’ll tap out ‘I can’t fucking breathe’ in morse code. On your ass cheek. How’s that?”</p><p>Sam sighs heavily. “And you’ll asphixiate before you get to the ‘b’. Just tap me three times. Then I’ll pull back…” He breaks off. Gabriel’s ridiculous comments have derailed his fears, but he still needs to check. “Are you sure about this? I’m… I’m kind of…”</p><p>Gabriel actually chortles at that. Sam sighs and rubs a hand over his face. The shift of his body makes his cock nudge at something. He opens his eyes to see the tip poking at Gabriel’s chin… and Gabriel going a little crosseyed staring at it. Christ this is utterly ridiculous. He can’t help laughing again. Gabriel’s eyes leave his dick, little creases apearing at the corners as he grins up at Sam.</p><p>“If you’re worried about your giant Moose dick don’t sweat it Bucko, I can handle it.” He tilts his head to the side. “More than handle it.”</p><p>Sam takes in a deep breath through his nose, but he nods his head. Slowly, tentatively, he angles his hips, threading his hands into Gabriel’s hair and guiding the tip of his cock into Gabriel’s mouth. He suckles on it for a moment, looking up at Sam through his eyelashes. Christ that’s… He doesn’t have time to ponder how it feels, nor ponder on just how beautiful Gabriel looks like that… Because Gabriel’s hands are on his hips, forcably pulling him forwards until he’s almost all the way in, then back again.</p><p><em>Ok, ok</em>. He gets the picture. Biting his lip, he moves one hand to the back of the chair to brace himself, the other curling around the back of Gabriel’s head and he… he goes for it. It’s awkward at first, his motions stuttered and unsure. But Gabriel’s making such incredible noises, swallowing around the head of his cock, suckling as best he can when Sam pulls back. Feeling his confidence grow, Sam settles into a rhythm. Making a little humming noise of approval, Gabriel finally lets go, hands leaving his hips to move to his own body. A moment later he can hear Gabriel resume his own ministrations. He can hear the sound of the toy thrusting into his channel, the sound of Gabriel stripping his own cock. With the same damn rhythm. <em>Fuck</em>. He wishes he could see it.</p><p>He closes his eyes and just concentrates on the sensations. It’s close to overwhelming. He’s never had it like this before. Gabriel’s deep throated him before. He’s a goddamn master with his lips and tongue, but he’s also always been in control. This time… God, this time he’s given up that control to Sam. Trusted him implicitly. Seems to even be enjoying it. And fuck if that isn’t the most incredible feeling.</p><p>He thrusts forward, feeling the head of his cock nudge the back of Gabriel’s throat. It’s like he’s got no gag reflex at all. Benefits… benefits of falling in love with a former porn star. Fuck, he’s not going to last long… not going to last long at all. Without Gabriel’s constant stream of conciousness he can hear everything that much more keenly. The sound of Gabriel furiously stripping his own cock, the noise the toy makes as it thrusts into his well lubed channel. He’s speeding up, motions becoming more frantic. He’s nearing the edge. Sam speeds up also, thrusting hard and fast into Gabriel’s willing mouth, fisting his hand in Gabriel’s hair.</p><p>He worries for a moment that he’s gone too far, he falters, but no signal comes. Gabriel’s humming around his length, hollowing his cheeks. Then the body under him stiffens, he can feel warmth splatter against his thighs. It’s enough. Pleasure courses through him as he spills deep inside Gabriel’s throat. He shudders, seeing stars beneath his eyelids, feeling Gabriel swallow it all down. Christ he’s still… Gabriel’s milking him dry, but… he lets go of the chair and pulls back, until he’s all the way out of Gabriel’s mouth. Gabriel stares up at him with lust hazed eyes. Sam wraps his hand around his own spit slick cock and he pumps it a couple of time, letting out a wimper as the last few beads of come spill from the tip. Hardly knowing what he’s doing anymore, he leans forward and paints Gabriel’s swollen lower lip with those last drops of pleasure.</p><p>Gabriel’s breath hitches. His tongue darts out to lick away the reminants of their lovemaking, but Sam hurriedly scrambles back off the chair, taking Gabriel’s chin in his hand and capturing his swollen, painted lips in a deep kiss.</p><p>They stay for long moments like that, Sam chasing his own taste on Gabriel’s tongue, Gabriel groaning into the kiss. There’s an insistent tapping on his lower back, then a great big smack on his ass. <em>Oh… oops</em>. Gabriel gulps in a long ragged breath as he pulls back. Sam regards his lover for a moment as he lies there panting beneath him. </p><p>He can’t help it… he really can’t. “So ah… you don’t have a problem with my ‘giant Moose dick’, but kissing has you floored?”</p><p>Gabriel looks a little startled for a moment, then Sam’s treated to a wrathful glare. </p><p>When he speaks, his voice comes out sounding incredibly raspy and hoarse.“Excuse me for actually being human and requiring oxygen to you know… not pop off this mortal coil.” </p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes as Sam snorts out a laugh. He sighs heavily and grabs hold of Sam, pulling him down into his warm and rather sticky embrace. Sam goes willingly, curling into his lover’s body as Gabriel’s arms wrap around him.</p><p>“Kissing you always does that to me Sam,” he huffs out.</p><p>Sam hitches in a breath. </p><p>“Same,” he breathes out after beat. His voice is wavering far too much to say anything else. Gabriel hums and presses a kiss to the top of his head.</p><p>Sam curls in a little further, getting lost now in these sensations: in the rise and fall of Gabriel’s chest, in the soft breaths ruffling his hair, in the touch of those incredible mobile hands as they rub absent patterns into his back, soothing muscles he hadn’t even realised were aching.</p><p>And he realises how true it is. Every touch, every kiss… being with his lover like this, holding each other until their breaths even out and then holding each other longer still, because they don’t want to let go… It floors him every time. He sighs a contented sigh into his lover’s skin, enjoying the sound of Gabriel’s soft raspy chuckle. They should probably get up and clean up all this sticky mess… But for now he’s content to stay here, right here in Gabriel’s arms.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Credit: Gabriel's PSA was heavily influenced by Sabriel-OTP's amazing Together We Soar Manips. See the Gabriel one <a href="https://sabriel-otp.tumblr.com/post/90074345474/dean-gabriel"> HERE on Tumblr</a>. </p><p>Writing is still not going anywhere as I've had a bit of writer's block and lots of artwork distractions. Hopefully I'll get back on track soon. Either way I should still be able to post next week. See you then x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*SEE END FOR IMPORTANT NOTES*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>GABRIEL</p><p>Ok so maybe he’ll be feeling it for a week. He’s not done that in years. And despite the boasts? Never on someone as huge as Sam. But fuck was it worth it. He may have an aching jaw. His voice may be shot to hell. But damn was it worth it. Letting Sam just take his pleasure from Gabriel’s mouth, just fuck in with wild abandon. <em>Nnnghh</em>. Ok maybe not wild. One particularly enthusiastic thrust aside, which he’s pretty sure he felt all the way down in his belly, he has no doubt that Sam was holding back, making sure that he didn’t hurt him. But still. Fuck. Filled up at the same time. Ass full, mouth full. Fucking hard and fast into both. He wonders for a moment if he can get Sam to do both for him next time. Oh fuck. 69? Hells yeah. Holy shit is that going on the Fucket List. 69 with the added bonus of Sam fucking him with his favorite Samildo. Can he handle that much pleasure? He makes a considering face. Yes, yes he can.</p><p>Sam shifts, startling him out of his merry thoughts. He’s drawing back. Gabriel whines a little. Ok a lot. Then he hisses in a breath as the come glue between them attempts to give him a rather unfortunate pube wax. <em>Owowow</em>. That is not good. Sam halts, hisses in his own breath and carefully separates Gabriel’s pubes from his skin. Maybe they stayed in their post orgasmic bliss a little too long that time. Just a little.</p><p>With a few hushed apologies Sam pads out into the hallway, presumably to retrieve a wet washcloth and what not and- Gabriel’s eyes land on Sam’s panel. He draws in a sharp breath. His legs feel like so much jelly and his ass cheek makes a valiant attempt to weld itself to the leather beneath it, but Gabriel finally staggers to his feet and takes a step forward.</p><p>His breath hitches again. <em>God… Sam…</em> He’s seen a lot of art. He wasn’t all that interested before he started working with Ellen, but since, he’s grown to appreciate it more and more. Living where they do and lacking the means to travel, he hasn’t exactly hit up the best galleries the world has to offer. But he’s seen some breathtaking shit. Some utterly masterful, beautiful work. But this… hells maybe he’s biased… but this… somehow it surpasses all of it. Somehow breathtaking isn’t a strong enough term. It’s accomplished as all Hells. Gabriel’s no expert, but he can see that much. Compositionally, tonally, color palette, depth, movement, expressive brushwork, light. All of it works incredibly well. The detail, likeness… it certainly looks like his come face as he’s come to know it… He snorts out a laugh. Oh yes, that’s him shooting through the stratosphere and shooting his load all over the place all right. Sam’s even helpfully added his love handles, albeit fairly subtly given his stretched out pose. He wasn’t kidding about wanting Gabriel just how he is apparently. No sugar coating it, no idealized version and yet… Yet… At the same time it is.</p><p>It’s him, so very him and yet, it’s… more. It’s the Gabriel that Sam loves. It’s them as Sam sees them, to the very essence. And Gabriel’s never seen anything more beautiful. And then there are the wings. Those glorious wings, stretched out behind him like they’re holding him steady as Sam fucks up into his willing body. Gabriel lets out a long low whistle.</p><p>“It’s ah… I’m pretty sure it’s done now. Do you…”</p><p><em>Sam</em>. Gabriel turns around, a wide smile stretching across his features, that falters as he takes in Sam’s expression.</p><p>Sam pads over, concern writ upon his beautiful face. It takes Gabriel a little too long to figure it out. He follows Sam’s gaze. Oh… <em>that</em>. ‘That’ being the great big purpling bruise on the back of his shoulder. Yeah that’s going to kind of mess up Sam’s other work some.</p><p>“Gabriel, what… what happened?” He pads over, washcloth forgotten as he examines the mark.</p><p>Gabriel hisses in a breath. “Ah sorry Sam-a-lam, kinda messed up your canvas.” They’ve been avoiding getting too frisky in the mark making for that very reason. The exhibition is only two weeks away after all. “Or rather… kinda had it messed up for me.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Gabriel makes a face. It wasn’t exactly his fault and he’s sure Sam can cover it up with some strategically placed swirl or another. He was gonna wing it a little anyways; see what inspiration struck him on the day.</p><p>“Just a little collision with a fast moving bag of dicks. You know how it is.”</p><p>“No. I don’t Gabriel. What are you talking about?”</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes heavenwards and relays the whole sorry tale. About half way through, Sam’s in the realms of full blown puppy dog. It’s much too much. He halts abruptly part way through a hilarious sidebar rundown of Prof Ketch’s various and sundry kinks. Because Sam is not laughing, not laughing at all.</p><p>“Will you quit looking at me like that? Yeesh Sam, it was no biggie. Just some strung out kid throwing his weight around because he’s pumped full of self loathing. Or someone pissed in his wheaties that morning. Who the hell knows? It was nothing. All bluster, no muster.”</p><p>Sam stares at him. “He assaulted you Gabe. Physically and verbally. Hurled homophobic abuse-”</p><p>“Nothing I haven’t heard a million times over. And it was hardly a heavy weight show down. Just a not so friendly shoulder bump. Kid just happened to be a linebacker who’s been downing the juice like it’s ah… juice.”</p><p>“<em>Christ Gabe</em>,” Sam spins around, dropping the forgotten washcloth and running his hands back through his hair while pacing the room.</p><p>Gabriel frowns. “You’re overreacting.”</p><p>Oh there’s that bitchface… only it’s freakishly welded to the puppy dog concern in some Frankenstein’s monster of facial expressions.</p><p>“Gabe I’m not… <em>Fuck</em>…”</p><p>Gabriel walks over and grabs hold of Sam’s forearms, rubbing reassuring circles into his skin.</p><p>“I’m fine. I wasn’t assaulted. Just, you know, I mouthed off and got a dollop of saliva on my shoes for my troubles.” He makes a face at that. “I mean it wasn’t pleasant but hardly something to-”</p><p>“He… <em>Jesus Gabe</em>… that <em>is</em> assault. Can’t you…” Sam lets out a long pained sigh. “Christ, please tell me you reported-” His eyes widen. “You didn’t… Just like with the goddamn comments on the video.”</p><p>Gabriel draws his lower lip into his mouth and looks away. “I hit the report button.”</p><p>“Gabe you can’t… Damn it Gabe, you can’t mess around with this shit. You have no idea how far these people will take things… You’re… you’re a target now and-”</p><p>“You think I shouldn’t have done it? Is that what you think?” Gabriel lets go abruptly and sends Sam a dangerous look. “That I should have stood back and let our friends suffer through all of this bullshit? Charlie? Natalie?” He draws in a deep breath through his nose, mind circling back to that day, when Natalie approached him, when she halting thanked him. Told him just how scared she’s been since those damn signs started appearing on rest room doors about Campus. How much the video meant to her. And she’s hardly the only trans kid that’s suffered at the hands of Zachariah and his minions, afraid every time they do something as simple as taking a leak. Gabriel’s jaw clenches, anger uncoiling from the pit of his belly. “All the countless others? All I’ve ever done in my life is run. I’m not running anymore. I won’t let anyone else pay for Zachy’s little temper tantrum and-”</p><p>“No. That’s not…” Sam grabs hold of his arms now, closing the sudden gulf between them. “No. You know I don’t think that. You know I stand by what you did. Stand by you. Gabriel I just…” His eyes drift over to the panel on the wall.</p><p>It happens in an instant. Sam’s face falls, like he’s had some sort of awful, terrible epiphany.</p><p>“I can’t… I can’t exhibit this… I can’t exhibit any of it.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Sam pulls away, walks over to the chair and slumps in it, head held in his hands.</p><p>“What the hell are you talking about Sam?” Gabriel tries to keep the edge out of his voice, but he’s not entirely sure he’s successful, because he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what Sam’s talking about.</p><p>“I can’t… You’re right…” Sam scrubs a hand over his face, skillfully avoiding Gabriel’s gaze as he delivers the coup de grace. “I’ve got to pull out of the exhibition.”</p><p>“What the actual fuck?”</p><p>Sam blinks up at him, eyes looking all red rimmed and watery, before they slide away. Gabriel clenches his jaw, but before he can say another word, Sam speaks up again.</p><p>“You said it yourself… Damn it Gabe, if Zachariah’s like this now, how the hell do you think he’ll react if I go ahead with this? How many people will get caught in the crossfire?” Sam’s shoulders slump again. “I can’t risk that… I can’t risk <em>you</em>.”</p><p>Gabriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Damn it Sam, I’m hardly a damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. This is exactly what he fucking wants. Don’t you get that! You’re playing right into his hands. Rolling over and exposing your belly like a wounded pup.” Gabriel hisses in a breath at the look Sam gives him for that. But he’s not done. He’s far from done. “The exhibition is <em>mandatory</em>. Do you have any idea how much of a hit your GPA will take if you don’t exhibit? You might as well kiss that graduate place goodbye. No I was wrong Sam, you’re not rolling over and exposing your belly, you’re bending over and presenting your ass for a good hard-”</p><p>“What the hell would you have me do?” Sam’s on his feet again, fists curling at his sides. Good. Get angry. Don’t give in.</p><p>“You stand up Sam. You don’t let that dickbag win. Hells Sam, I put my faith in you a long time ago. I think you can pull it off.”</p><p>Sam’s hands uncurl at that. A little furrow appears between his brows. At the sight of it, all the pent up frustration dissipates from Gabriel’s body. Fuck, this kid will be the death of him. He lets out a long sigh.</p><p>“What if-”</p><p>“No ifs, no buts. Well except that glorious one right there.” He hooks his thumb over the shoulder at painting Sam’s marvelous tush.</p><p>Sam’s lips twitch upwards, despite it all. And Gabriel knows, right there and then that he has him.</p><p>“Gabriel…”</p><p>Gabriel takes a deep breath through his nose and steps right up into Sam’s personal space, hand coming up to rest of his hips. “Kiddo, you’ve got this. We’ve got this.”<br/>
Sam swallows and looks away, but a moment later he’s meeting Gabriel’s gaze once more. He doesn’t say a word, but slowly, surely, he nods his head.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam stares up at the ceiling, eyes following the patterns thrown by the moonlight filtering in through the gap in their curtains. He should really get up and close them over properly so they aren’t woken too early, but he doesn’t want to move from this spot, doesn’t want to shift Gabriel from his position, half sprawled across Sam’s chest.</p><p>Sam finds his hands absently drifting up to Gabriel’s head of messy hair, fingers carding gently through the tousled strands. Gabriel doesn’t wake, but he makes a contented noise and his body curls even closer into Sam’s side.<br/>
He’s right. Sam knows he’s right. It is exactly what Zachariah wants. For him to give up. Or maybe to goad him into doing something stupid.</p><p>But knowing that, doesn’t make it any easier. He bites his lip, fingers drifting down to Gabriel’s shoulder, to the dark mark marring pale skin. In the pallid moonlight it stands out in even greater relief. Anger flares in him for a moment only to be replaced an instant later with fear. Gabriel may have tried to pass off all those online comments as bunch of douches just trying to exert a little power and mischief to relieve the monotony of their boring lives. And maybe for the most part he’s right. But now this? It doesn’t feel like smoke, it feels like a blazing fire.</p><p>He feels that jolt of fear and loss pass through him in a rush and he gathers Gabriel to him, holds him tight enough that he’s sure he’ll wake. But Gabriel must be in a deep slumber. He doesn’t surface. A moment later the agency of those emotions loosen their vice like grip on him, but there’s still that cold dread, permeating his whole being. He’s afraid, so damn afraid. What if they aren’t all just idle threats?</p><p>Sleep doesn’t come easily. He lies awake most of the night, head spinning until finally, well into the early hours, exhaustion starts to drag him under. Rest proves more elusive. He sleeps fitfully, all those worst case scenarios playing out in his head over and over again. But each time he finds himself startling awake, Gabriel’s right there, wrapping himself back around Sam, holding him in a comforting embrace, sleepy bedhead taking up residence on his chest time and time again, right there over his thundering heart beat. Until finally something gives. He lets go. Let’s Gabriel take care of everything. Take care of him. He can’t know what the future holds, but he does know that Gabriel’s here for him, will be here for him every step of the way. And that… is everything.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Firstly, my tablet died on me and stupidly I hadn't backed up my work in awhile. Lockdown stress and too much going on at once. But yeah, still stupid. All in I lost 6 chapters. Still in the process of trying to solve the issue, but it's looking increasingly like a factory reset might be my only option. I have begun rewriting from what I remember on an ancient laptop, but it's proving a slow process. As such, the next update probably won't be for a couple of weeks to allow me time to re-write and re-edit. I will try my best to make sure it's not longer than this.</p><p>Secondly. You may have noticed I removed a couple of problematic tags. This was not by accident. Since I'm rewriting anyway, I've taken the decision to pull back from the darkest parts of this fic. It wasn't sitting right within the story and the way the character was reacting was difficult to connect with the rest of what was supposed to happen. I've basically decided to not go there and I really don't think it's necessary or helpful for the narrative.</p><p>Hopefully see you in the not too distant future. So sorry for this unexpected delay. It was a major blow for me and I know it's crappy that you all have to wait. I promise not to be such a dumb ass in the future.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hope. He had almost forgotten what that felt like...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ah sorry that was a little over two weeks. Here have a chapter. See the end notes for an update...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>DEAN</p><p>Dean looks out over the group of assembled… what was it that mega douche called them?... <em>Misfits and miscreants</em>. Right, well it kind of fits. They’re hardly the Avengers. But each and every one of these assholes are invested. They care a damn lot about Gabriel and they’re willing to put their lives, their freedom on the line to do the right thing. And that’s exactly what he just asked them to do. Question is, do they have a hope in hell of succeeding? </p><p>They all have their skills, their uses. Some Dean has to admit he has a little more faith in than others. Jo and Benny, he’s pretty sure they can cope and will do whatever’s necessary. Garth? Crap he really didn’t want to involve someone as batshit as Garth, but the dude certainly seems to be dedicated to the cause and his connections with the janitorial staff around campus will definitely come in more than handy. His eyes pass over Becky’s jubilant face. Christ he’s not even thinking about that. Chuck comes across as one seething ball of anxiety at the best of times. But they need him. And he knows the guy cares a shit tonne about his old friend. Natalie and Kevin, there to back Charlie up. Both computer whizzes. Kevin’s particularly adept at code breaking apparently. Natalie certainly has reason to help and despite his reluctance to do anything remotely in the vicinity of rule breaking, Dean’s pretty sure Kevin will do just about anything for Natalie. He’s seen the longing looks. Luke… well dedication’s not going to be a problem. Everything else will be. </p><p>His eyes travel back to Charlie. She’s the most important piece of this messed up puzzle. He hopes to hell that her skills aren’t just part of some overblown projected persona. Can she really live up to all that? He has to be sure.</p><p>“Are you sure you can do it?”</p><p>“So longs you don’t get me involved in the breaking and entering…”</p><p>“What’s the difference? It’s no different to hacking?”</p><p>“Well one I’ve been doing since I was a teenager, I don’t exactly relish the thought of the other.”</p><p>Well that sounds promising. “What did you hack into when you were a teenager?”</p><p>“Uh, NORAD.”</p><p><em>Holy shit</em>. A few of the gathered group make sounds of appreciation. They might actually pull this off. But…</p><p>“Whatever Wargames, you know Gabriel tried before and came up empty. You think you can do any better?”</p><p>Charlie gives him a scathing look. </p><p>“Don’t be a dick Dean.”</p><p>Dean looks over to where Jo is slouched against the sideboard, arms crossed over her chest. </p><p>“There’s no room for your misogynistic crap. She says she can do it and I for one believe her.” A few others make sounds of agreement. Luke appears pretty damn close to pissing himself in laughter.</p><p>Dean rubs a hand over his face. He supposes he deserved that… a little. But they’re just not getting it. “It’s not that, damn it. This shit aint a game. Any one of us screws up and we could all go down. Any little mistake. Look I did this for years. And let me tell you, I frickin felt the consequences of screwing up.”</p><p>He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, looking away. Bobby steps up beside him and Dean’s never felt more glad.</p><p>“Kid’s right, there’s no place here for egos or any of that bullcrap. Put that all aside right now or leave. This aint no… whatever the hell you call them… no online quest. There’s no do-overs. We’ve got to stick to the plan and when the plan goes to hell and you bet your ass it will, we’ve gotta be able to think on our feet. You geniuses think you can do that?”</p><p>There are few sharp intakes of breath, but everyone, even Luke, eventually nods their head.</p><p>Dean lets out a sigh. He nods his head also. “Good, let’s have another frickin beer and then we can hash this thing out some more.”</p><p>As he heads to the fridge, the buzz of conversation springs up among them. That’s good too, they could all do with a breather. He’s just about to reach for the bottle when his cell goes off. Grabbing the bottle out, he slips the phone from his pocket, frowning down at the caller I.D... A thrill of fear goes through him. <em>Shit Sam</em>. He sets the beer down and slips out of the room as he answers the call.</p><p>He takes in a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be to come.</p><p>“Sammy-”</p><p>
  <em>He squeezed my hand Dean. He squeezed my hand. Fuck I think he’s actually… It’s early days and the Doc told me not to get ahead of myself, but Dean I…</em>
</p><p>It’s all said with a rush of emotion, his brother finally running out of steam and breaking off into a sob. </p><p>“Holy shit Sammy that’s frickin fantastic. See I told you that stubborn little shit wouldn’t roll over and just give up.”</p><p><em>Dude seriously? </em>His brother lets out a little laugh. </p><p>There’s silence for a moment, the only sound the shaking breaths coming over the other end. Dean desperately wracks his brain for something to say, anything to say. What sort of shit do you say in these circumstances?</p><p><em>I was so afraid… </em> When his brother’s voice comes over the other end, he sounds so close to breaking that Dean’s heart clenches painfully at the tone. <em> I thought I’d lost him Dean… I really thought I’d lost him… But maybe… Maybe he’s going to be ok.</em></p><p>“You bet your ass he will be. I told you right from the start. He’ll be up in no time, annoying the crap out of all the nurses. He just took his sweet time doin it.” Sam lets out another little laugh so Dean presses it further. “You know Gabriel, he always goes for the dramatic pauses and shit.” His brother laughs heartily at that and Dean can’t help but smile.</p><p>
  <em>You’re not wrong.</em>
</p><p>There’s another silence, but this one’s a little more comfortable. </p><p>“Is Cas with you?” Dean eventually asks. </p><p>He knows that Cas was planning to spend the majority of the evening at the hospital, but it’s late enough that he might have left. He was planning to wrap up this little gathering soon, just in case, though he’s pretty sure the excuse of having Gabriel’s friends around for a drink and a chat would fly pretty well.</p><p>
  <em>He’s in there with Gabriel right now… Oh damn I should call Luke. He should know.</em>
</p><p>“I’ll take care of that,” Dean says, careful not to say it in too much of a rush. “You just focus on Gabriel… You need me there too? Give you a lift home afterwards.”</p><p>
  <em>Thanks. Ah no… I think I’m going to stay quite awhile and Cas said he’d give me a lift home when I was ready… Dean…</em>
</p><p>“I know Sammy. It’s gonna be easy riding from here on out, ok…”</p><p>They chat little more, only exchanging a few more words before Sam calls off, the urge to go back to Gabriel’s side too much to ignore.</p><p>Dean leans back against the hallway wall for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths. <em>Shit that’s… thank fuck for that</em>. The relief is stark, it hits him deep. He didn’t realize just how on edge he was. Truth is, he was just as frickin scared as Sam. Just as afraid that he would lose another member of his family. He can’t go down this train of thought. It leads nowhere good. The main thing is, that it looks like Gabriel’s going to be ok. Well that’s certainly what he hopes to hell it means. It’s still a little in the back of his mind that Luke might be right, that Gabriel might not come all the way back. But shit, they’ll cross that bridge, when they need to, <em> if </em> they need to.</p><p>Right now, he needs to get his head in the game. He’ll draw Luke aside, let him know first before telling the others. It’s damn good news, they sure as shit could do with it, but at the same time it don’t change what needs to be done. With any luck, by the time Gabriel’s up and annoying the crap out of everybody, this whole thing will be over.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>For the first time in more than a week, when Sam goes to bed that night, he doesn’t have any nightmares. He tosses and turns a little, but it’s for a different reason entirely. He tries to tell himself not to get ahead of himself as Doctor Green warned, but he can’t help casting his mind forward, can’t help picturing holding Gabriel in his arms once more, kissing him… making love to him… It all spins around his head, over and over again.</p><p>When he wakes the next morning, he’s tangled up in his bed sheets as usual, but there’s an unpleasant dampness, sticking his boxers to his skin. He flushes when he realizes what’s happened, fleeting memories of pleasant dreams passing through his mind. Bright golden eyes, a warm solid body beneath him, surrounding him. <em> Shit </em>. That’s… that’s kind of embarrassing. He hasn’t had a wet dream since he was a little out of his teens. He supposes in a way it’s to be expected. His body is so used to a high level of sexual activity… There have been reactions before this, but he’s forcefully ignored them, unable to allow himself the release. He couldn’t bear to do that while Gabriel’s life was so very much in the balance.</p><p>Now… now his body’s apparently taken care of matters for him. At least Dean isn’t here to witness this golden mocking opportunity.</p><p>He sighs as he untangles himself from his sheets and takes a look at the alarm clock, the new one he had to buy when Gabriel accidentally broke the last. He didn’t mean to sleep so long, but then again he didn’t think himself capable anymore. Apparently his body took care of that as well. He clearly needed it. He hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since… And he stayed a lot later than he meant to last night, until Cas finally dragged him away, giving him that commanding look when he tried to refuse. It doesn’t surprise him that his brother fell for the man so hard.</p><p>He heads to the shower first, stripping off gingerly and sighing in relief as he dips his head under the warm spray. For once he’s facing the day, not with dread, but with a pleasant sort of anticipation. Doctor Green told him the recovery was likely to be gradual, that he can’t expect it all to happen at once. He knows that, but by the time they left last night, the signs were all so promising. Gabriel was finally responding to stimuli. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but it feels like it’s only a matter of time… The thought of seeing Gabriel’s eyes again… His heart skips a beat. He’s never met anyone with such beautiful eyes. He’s missed seeing them, so damn much. And there was even some tentative talk of possibly extubating him today or the next day, if he carries on improving at the rate he is.</p><p>God he hopes… Is his brother right? Is it going to be easy riding from here on out? Probably not completely. But maybe the worst is over? He can only hope. But damn, hope… it feels incredible to have it again.</p><p>For the first time in a little over a week, he actually feels like eating. He almost groans around his wholemeal toast and jam. Flavor. For once he doesn’t feel like he’s eating cardboard. He actually does groan with the next bite, then almost chokes on his mouthful as he suddenly pictures Gabriel’s face, looking across at him with hunger in his eyes. <em>Christ</em>. He snorts out a laugh once the food’s well washed down with a sip of OJ. Those heated looks. He definitely misses them.</p><p>When he finally steps out into the midday sun, he tilts his head back and enjoys the warmth on his skin for just a moment. He meant to be at the hospital hours ago. But he needed this. All of this. He needed to feel human again. Still… Now that he feels a little more refreshed… He sets out at a quick pace towards the hospital, hope and anticipation spurring him on, instead of the fear and anguish that has made him drag his heels these last few days.</p><p>A warmth spreads through his chest. Unbidden, the corners of his mouth turn upwards in a small unconscious smile. </p><p>Hope. He had almost forgotten what that felt like. He lengthens his stride. </p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Purgatory. Despite his upbringing, he never really believed all that much in any of it. Or maybe he just didn’t like to think on it. Heaven, hell, that other one. The in-between. But maybe he was wrong. His mind keeps slipping. He’s one place one moment, then another the next. But mostly… Mostly there’s nothing. The empty. That’s more the term he would give it, when he has thought to ponder on it. Which isn’t often. Sometimes he thinks he can grasp things a little better. That he’s been here long enough.</p><p>But concepts float away like bloated hot air balloons. Especially if he tries to examine them too closely.</p><p>This. He’s pretty sure this is new. Some new torture. Is there torture in purgatory? Or is that just reserved for hell. He vaguely remembers a movie. Jacob’s ladder. Scared the crap out of him. This… this feels the same. It’s not real. He’s pretty sure of that much. </p><p>Everything jars, the lights are too bright. His name again and again.</p><p>Over and over and over.</p><p>Sam. No not Sam. The <em> Sampirition </em>. That’s a new torture he wasn’t counting on. Not that he’s counting.</p><p>It’s there almost all the time now. Even if his vision mercifully doesn’t work quite right, it hurts to look at it… To hope… But there is no hope.</p><p>Sam’s dead. He was too late. Too stupid and too slow. Sam died. And then he-</p><p>
  <em>Wait what?</em>
</p><p>But it’s gone again. There was a thread of thought there. He almost caught hold of it, but it drifted away too fast. Poof. Gone. He would chuckle, but he’s not entirely sure where his laughter went to. It doesn’t seem to exist in this place.</p><p>He closes his eyes. Against the pain. Against the light that seeks to blind him. Willing the Sampirition to go away and desperately wanting it to stay at the same time. It hurts too much so he pulls away, pulls back, let’s the dark envelope him once more, lets the nothing permeate his being. Just before thought fractures completely, he captures just one thread. He holds on to it. He knows he’ll never let it go. Knows that he’ll be back. It may be torture, it may not be real, but he needs to find his way back.</p><p>Back to Sam.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So here's the sitch. I still have 1 1/2 chapters to rewrite. I'm not going to lie, it's been heavy going. Turns out it's far harder to rewrite half remembered shit than it is to write from scratch. Who knew? And not helping matters is that some of the content in these chapters is really, really heavy going. I'm getting there. Slowly. So sorry for the delay. I'll probably leave it another 2 weeks for an update. I'm hoping to complete the missing chapters and then start the process of getting ahead of my writing a little more. I think it will flow a little easier once I'm past this sticking point and hopefully... I think... despite the troubles I'm reasonably happy with the results. I wasn't so sold on how a couple of the chapters were playing out before and I think the changes I made are an improvement. It's still dark, but not quite in the same tricky character altering way. All in all I think we're good and on course for the happy ending but alas there are plenty of troubled waters ahead before we get there. Hold tight.</p><p>Oh P.S. little note on Gabe: Ok so his body has been under a lot of strain. Lots of blood loss, dehydration and craziness and medication on top. His mind, unfortunately is playing some pretty nasty tricks on him. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With the exhibition rapidly approaching Sam is working flat out. Gabriel is desperately missing Sam, but he's occupying his time thinking about the weeks ahead and the quality time they'll finally get to have... mostly in the bedroom.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>2 DAYS BEFORE THE EXHIBITION</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam huffs out a long breath as he sets down his side of the piece, thanking the students who offered to help him move it onto and off of the trolley. They disperse, all with their own work to attend to. He settles down on the floor for a moment to take a breather, just letting the bustle around him wash over him. He tries not to let fear take hold of him. Everyone’s too wrapped up in their own projects to take any note of him. Everyone that is, except Zachariah. Sam can feel his gaze upon him. He sighs, takes another deep breath and turns to meet that gaze. Zachariah can’t possibly know the full scope of his work just from this one partial piece, but apparently it’s enough. He narrows his gaze; his jaw clenches. If looks could kill... But he won’t back down, won’t look away. He just stares right back, willing Zachariah to do something, say something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he doesn’t. Ellen’s in the room after all. All these other students who clearly took Gabriel’s side last time are right here. No one’s looking at them, but apparently Ellen’s threat was enough. Zachariah breaks eye contact, looks away, muttering under his breath. Sam can’t hear the words from where he is. Frankly he doesn’t want to know. It’s strange, but some of that fear dissipates with the silent exchange. Zachariah is a Spectre. He may make a lot of noise and bluster, but that’s all it is at the end of the day. Sam never really cared what the man thought of him, but now, even less. Let the man stew in his own bitter bile. The only way that he can affect Sam, is if Sam lets him. And after what Gabriel said to him… Sam’s determined that he won’t. He won’t back down. He won’t let Zachariah win. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s time to get to work. He turns and examines the piece. His helpers were very careful. There isn’t much out of place from the move thankfully. It would have been impossible to add the outer layer of “feathers” before now however. They’re prepared, but he has a lot of work to do in situ. He picks up the box and begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This will take most of the day and then he’s agreed to help Ellen in all other preparations, logistics, logging work, pricing, sorting out any technical issues any of the other students have. Although the other tutors get involved, Ellen will be heading up the exhibition and there’s a lot to do. She’s mercifully agreed to let Sam hang his panel last, the night before the exhibition. She even suggested it, much to Sam’s relief. Benny’s leaving work a little early to help him shift it in his pickup… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrapped. Sam is definitely wrapping it up. And not just for protection. Despite his resolve to pay no attention to Zachariah and his ilk, the thought of others seeing it, particularly Gabriel’s friends and family… Yeah he still finds the idea kind of equal parts terrifying and well… mortifying. The painting holds deep meaning to him, but it’s not entirely lost on him that he’s essentially inviting a view into their bedroom, into one of their most intimate moments. He doesn’t know how anyone will react. It’s not just Gabriel this time, it’s both of them together, wrapped up in each other, literally and figuratively. While Gabriel is utterly unflustered by the situation… well he’s somewhat of an exhibitionist, admittedly so. Sam… Sam’s most definitely not. He may have his back to the “viewer”, but… well his butt… There he goes thinking like Gabriel again. His ass is clearly in view and it doesn’t exactly take much imagination to figure out where his cock is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds himself flushing at the thought. He’s pretty sure Benny isn’t actually attending the exhibition, but he knows Cas is. Cas expressly asked if he could attend. And while he’s glad it’s not Luke this time… and he knows that Cas appreciated his work, if he was a little bit startled by it… This is different isn’t it? It’s not just his older brother pleasuring himself… it’s Sam… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Sam actually taking his brother up the… Ok perhaps it’s best not to go down this train of thought too far. Cas knows what the piece is about. Sam haltingly explained. Quietly, so as not to disturb the crap out of his brother, who was slouched on their sofa, absorbed in some overblown hospital drama. Dean had already made sounds about maybe not attending. And Sam was glad as hell that he didn’t have to suffer through that painfully awkward exchange. But of course Gabriel had to come barging into the conversation. With loud descriptions. Hand actions too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suffice to say, Sam does not have to worry about his brother turning up unannounced this time, though apparently he’s paying for his brother’s therapy for the rest of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just has to worry about everyone else…</span>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel slouches on the sofa. Channel surfing again. Why is there never anything on? Boring. Boring. Boring x1000. He sighs dramatically and throws his head back against the sofa. Boooooooooring. He could binge something on Netflix, but he can’t muster the enthusiasm for that either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two more days to go. Well the rest of this day, which is… he takes a gander at his wrist watch and groans loudly… far too damned long. And then another entire day. Why are there so many hours in the day? Work has slowly dwindled. He has fewer shifts at the Roadhouse. Far too many students are too busy unloosing the caboose in their pants to down a purple nurple or two at their fine establishment. After will be different, but for now, next to nada. He doesn’t have any more Janitorial shifts until after the end of semester and no-one wants to pay him to be naked. Except his fortnightly Cougars. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> next week. He has what… one shift at the Roadhouse tomorrow night? And that’s going to be dead. Charlie’s D&amp;D group are coming in to blow off some steam. Maybe one or two customers more. If that. Benny’s even knocking off early to help Sam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s that. Nothing to do. No-</span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do. He huffs out a long breath. He misses Sam. Really goddamn misses Sam. He knows he’s being ridiculous. It’s not like Sam’s gone anywhere. They sleep in the same bed every night. But that’s it. Sleep. Sam’s worn out… stressed. Ok so sometimes they work on that stress a little. Work out the kinks so to speak. He snorts out a bitter laugh. If only. The problem is that they have no time to play. So many plans; so few opportunities. He always knew the last couple of weeks of Sam’s degree would be like this. But there’s knowing and there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he can’t bitch at Sam about it… or at least he </span>
  <em>
    <span>tries</span>
  </em>
  <span> not to bitch at Sam about it. Kid’s got enough on his plate. So he just does what he does… incredibly badly. He’s considerate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Patient. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah… a little. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Attentive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe a little too much</span>
  </em>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they’ll get through this. The end of the academic year is nigh. Summer beckons. For him that normally means long drawn out days cooling his heels and dining on Ramen for 3 meals a day… if he’s lucky. This year… this year will be different. Sure they’ll still be broke… But the department’s paying him a decent whack for the exhibition. Ellen magicked up some funds so he wouldn’t be baring all for the last buck in Sam’s jeans’ pocket. It won’t go all that far, but it’ll tide them over, at least for a little while. He knows Sam’s been careful since Christmas, holding back a little, knowing first that he wouldn’t have an income at all, then that there would be a gap before his graduate funding kicks in. He’s even made some noises about picking up some private tutoring… even made some noises about possibly popping in to give the Cougars a tip or two for a small fee. They won’t live lavishly, but they won’t be destitute either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides… for what Gabriel has in mind? They won’t exactly need much funds. Just lashings of lube… and ok, maybe a few new toys. He has plans. So many plans…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes himself up from the couch before he drowns in it and saunters over to the kitchen, pausing at the refrigerator door before grabbing the OJ. So so many plans. His eyes drift down their Fucket List, pinned to the surface with a rather appropriately phallic shaped set of magnets. His mind wanders. Doing it al fresco again. Definitely at the top of his to-do Sam list. That night on the Impala. Holy hotcakes. That was a night to remember. Ellen’s been too darn busy to bother about the cabin just yet… but given what Sam’s been through to get to this point… given what he’s going to go through with the exhibition no doubt. Gabriel’s sure she’ll say yes. Their first solo vacation. Skinny dipping. Warm summer nights spent out on the porch swing. Fucking. Fucking on the swing, down by the lake, in every room of the cabin. In the workshop. Hells yeah, definitely in the workshop again. Maybe a little cosplay with the Cheerleader outfit again. The wings… would definitely bring those. He raises an eyebrow as a thought occurs to him. Maybe T.Rickster could make a guest appearance? Question is… Does he have time to slim down into those pants? He makes a considering face… uh probably not. No pants it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, he wants to live life to the full. Enjoy himself. Not live on rabbit food and torture himself with such awful things as running. He shudders. Hells no. He is not doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> again. No siree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs happily as he ponders it all, finally grabbing that OJ and ok, maybe a snack. Done with the poor daytime TV offerings, he switches it off and wanders through to Sam’s studio. His breath catches when he sees it. Sam’s panel. He gets that feeling again. Like he’s soaring. Like he really has just sprouted wings from between his shoulder blades and risen way up into the bright blue sky. He takes in a long breath through his nose and makes his way over to the easy chair, settling down in the sun, sprawling comfortably as he gazes across at Sam’s masterpiece. He’ll miss it when it’s gone. Sam snorts out one of his ludicrously donkey like laughs whenever Gabriel suggests it, but Gabriel doesn’t doubt that the piece will sell. It’s too damned incredible not to. The department always invites a fair number of affluent VIPs. Doing their best to help kick start their student’s careers. A surprising amount of work sells. Far less worthy pieces than Sam’s. It’ll sell. No doubt. Gabriel just hopes Sam doesn’t let it go for too low a price. That would be Sam through and through. Undervaluing his work. Ellen will set him right though, surely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then maybe… maybe they </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> live a little. He lets out a chuckle. No. No Sam would save it, save it in case they need it in the future. He gets that feeling again. That rush. Their future. Is Sam really thinking in those terms? He sucks a breath in through his teeth. The answer his mind supplies him, surprises him. Yes… yes he’s pretty sure he is. He’s never had this. He’s been in what he thought of as love, though in hindsight it probably wasn’t. But the one thing he’s absolutely sure of, is that no-one’s ever been in love with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>before. And that feeling… He whistles long and low. That he can never get enough of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets his mind drift, suddenly not bored anymore. Not bored at all. Thinking of them. Thinking of their future together.</span>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>
  <span>ZACHARIAH</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zachariah lets the noise wash over him, lets them speak their piece. They have done well, forced change, made their voices be heard. The backlash was inevitable. All those simpering fools, whining about their so called ‘rights’. That was expected. What he hadn’t counted on was that low life maggot, worming his way into their midst. Setting himself up as some sort of ludicrously filthy figurehead for the cause. Zachariah honestly didn’t think he had it in him anymore. Thought he was too wrapped up in his own debauched existence to take much notice. Too cowardly perhaps. It’s pathetic. Laughable. And yet… It’s working. He wanted to rile Sam, instead he got him. Gabriel. And what he lacks for in morals, he makes up for in charisma. Zachariah never understood it, but people are drawn to him. A certain sort of people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam. He shakes his head. He never counted on that either. That he would actually still fawn after Gabriel after his sordid past was revealed. Perhaps he should have realized that the corruption ran too deep. Separating them would have been satisfying enough, more than satisfying… To remove the only love that Gabriel has ever known, as twisted as it is. It would have destroyed him, crushed his soul to dust. Perhaps satisfying is not strong enough a term. But it would have done something more. It would have also made it that much easier to deal with Sam. To remove him from his path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It matters little. His obsession will be his downfall. That abomination he’s dared to create? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> will be his downfall. And Gabriel will fall with him. Zachariah can’t help the smile that spreads across his features. It’s a gift really. He could not have conceived of a better motivation for his flock, a more efficient call to arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zachariah holds up a hand to silence the angry mutterings of the group. They’re suitably riled up. It’s time to rein them in, to channel that rage into a blunt instrument… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zachariah smiles as the group files past him. Such fervor, such passion in their eyes. Perhaps even devotion. It buoys his spirits. They will carry out his wishes. Zachariah has no doubt about that. There’s just one more matter to take care of…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A word if you please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donald pauses, nods his head and steps to the side as the others filter past. Zachariah waits patiently until they have the room to themselves. His soldier, his second in command… his weapon. Zachariah was right about him. He’s volatile, a careful manipulation was needed, but he has thus far exceeded all expectations. He’s willing to do what needs to be done, when so many would shy away. Zachariah smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder, have you perhaps heard of an establishment named ‘the Roadhouse’?” </span>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sighs as he dumps his belongings and sheds his outer layers. It’s been a long day. He’s aching in muscles he didn’t even know he had. He vows to get up early tomorrow no matter the exhaustion. He desperately needs to work out some of the kinks in his spine, shake out the stiffness in his limbs with a good solid run. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn it’s late. He didn’t mean for it to get so late. He feels a stab of guilt. Yet another day has passed without him spending any quality time with Gabriel. He must have headed to bed already. Sam runs his hands through his hair. Fuck. Gabriel’s been understanding about it. A hell of a lot more patient than Sam expected him to be. But this isn’t good, isn’t good for either of them…  Just one more day. One more day of hard draft. Then the exhibition. The thought of that isn’t exactly reassuring, but at least they’ll be together. And after… after he intends to lavish attention on his boyfriend. Sam’s pretty sure that Gabriel will insist they spend the following few days in bed. And Sam’s more than ok with that. A small smile curving his lips upwards, he pads through to the bathroom and swiftly takes care of his nightly ablutions before heading through to their room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He freezes, a thrill of fear flashing through his body at the sight of the empty bed. He swallows down the panic, tells himself not to be ridiculous. Perhaps Gabriel went out for a nighttime stroll or… God the thought of that isn’t exactly great either. As busy as he’s been, he still worries about Gabriel being out alone at night. What happened with the student rattled him. What if... No. He takes a few calming breaths. He can’t keep asking these what ifs. That won’t do him any good at all. Instead he heads back out to the hallway. There’s a light on, faint. He wonders why he didn’t notice it before. Relief washes through him as he crosses the hall to their studio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses in the doorway, just looking in, heart swelling at the sight. Gabriel must have come here to read, or maybe to wait up for Sam. But clearly exhaustion got the better of him. He’s reclined on his easy chair, socked feet raised, arms hanging lax to his side, book lying open on his chest. His head is drooping towards one shoulder, a little pool of drool dampening the collar of one of Sam’s flannel shirts, while he snores softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sam’s absurdly tempted to get out his sketchbook and sketch him like this. To preserve this moment. But it’s late and if Gabriel sleeps like that much longer, he’s likely to wake with a crick in his neck and maybe catch a chill too. The window’s open a crack and Gabriel… well he isn’t exactly wearing anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam’s shirt and a pair of old socks. Sam approaches quietly. He thinks of waking him, but he looks far too peaceful, and judging by the way his eyebrows keep twitching upwards, deep in the realms of a satisfying dream. So instead, Sam gently removes the book, stowing it away on his bookshelf and very carefully scoops him up, grunting a little with the effort. It isn’t easy. Gabriel’s a solid weight. But all the hard work these last few weeks and the press-ups he’s managed to squeeze in have meant his muscles haven’t atrophied any, even if he hasn’t exactly had time to fit in any swimming or anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel surfaces only a little, that eyebrow dancing a little further up his forehead, muttering something in his sleep, a little too softly for Sam to fully pick up. Though he’s pretty sure he heard the word “orgasmatron” somewhere in there. He can’t help but let up a little laugh, grateful that that doesn’t wake Gabriel either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Negotiating the doorways is a little trickier, but finally he can settle Gabriel down in the bed, thankful for once that Gabriel has failed to make the bed again. Gabriel mutters a little more, unintelligibly this time, but settles quickly, curling onto his side. Sam slips in beside him, pulling the sheets up over them both.  He settles on his side facing Gabriel, reaching out to brush an errant lock from Gabriel’s forehead. Just one more day. Just two until they’re free of this. Until they can indulge in each other again. Until they can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sam stays awake for long moments, just watching Gabriel sleep, committing to memory every detail of his lover’s face. Until finally he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. His lids flutter closed; he falls into a deep slumber. For once his sleep is untroubled by nightmares, his mind conjuring only the most pleasant of dreams. Conjuring that beautiful face. Beckoned by a lazy smile; quirked lips promising him the world. And all Sam can do is follow.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Good news, I have officially worked my way through the rough patch and rewritten all of the lost chapters. I've also made a little headway beyond that so I can go back to weekly posting for the time being. If all goes well *fingers crossed* I should be finishing the writing off within the next few weeks. I've maybe got 4 or 5 more chapters to write give or take. The happy ending is in sight, but yeah rough waters to go through first. Thanks for your patience. See you next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Present day: a boat load of angst and small dose of silly</p><p>*WARNINGS*: ok that was a bit shouty for something that's fairly tame in the grand scheme of things. There's a possible squick here, due to a non explicit mention of a one time past liason between two characters. Just remember that in this verse they are not related... Warning also for Sam's extreme anxiety. I'll write some notes at the end on this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>PRESENT DAY</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It never struck Sam before that doing nothing could be the hardest thing in the world. But this last week and a handful of days, it seems like it’s all he’s done. And it’s been torture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waiting. Waiting for news. Waiting for an improvement. Waiting for tests. Ever waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s been here since 8 a.m. It’s a little past 2 p.m. But those few hours feel like a lifetime. It’s not like before. Not the raw agony of that first day, but somehow it still isn’t any easier to endure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wishes that Dean was here to distract him with cup after cup of crappy coffee. But his brother has been notably absent. It shouldn’t bother him so much… Dean has been his constant, always there for him, holding him up, keeping him from breaking completely… Until now. It’s stupid and selfish of Sam to expect anything else. He knows that. Dean desperately needs a break after all those sleepless nights, awoken by his screaming and yelling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But… he can’t help but be a little pissed. Gabriel is being extubated right now. Anything could go wrong. All the assessments went well. He’s scoring a 9 on the Glasgow coma scale. That’s expected to go up once he actually has the functionality to speak. He’s been responding to simple verbal cues. Glaring at people. He hasn’t quite gotten to the point of rolling his eyes yet and his focus wavers, like he’s not sure where he is from one moment to the next… But it feels like him. Like his Gabriel. Sometimes… sometimes he looks at Sam like he doesn’t know who he is. And that terrifies him, terrifies him to his core… But more than that, he fears that the procedure will fail. That after everything they’ve been through, he could lose Gabriel still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next few hours will be critical. Despite responding well to the spontaneous breathing test and all subsequent assessments, the risk of respiratory failure is all too real. Sam knows that Gabriel isn’t considered high risk in general, being fairly young and in reasonable health. But he also knows that he’s been intubated long enough that the risks are very much present. There are precautions in place. They’ve been assured of that. But…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn he wishes his brother was here. It’s so typical of him, to run away with the slightest bit of good news. To hide his head in the sand and pretend it’s all going to be ok.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Shit</em>. Sam runs a hand over his face. Cas gives him a sympathetic look. He appears as weary and on edge as Sam, though he’s wearing it better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It should not be much longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nods his head. He takes a few paces in one direction before continuing in another. He realizes after a moment that he’s driving </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span> crazy enough with all the nervous energy and so he slumps down in the nearest chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam thinks about making small talk, but he doesn’t know what to say. What the hell would they talk about? Their absent brothers? Maybe he gets Luke a little more. It sucks that he hasn’t been by since Gabriel started to show signs of improvement, but where others may see it as a lack of care, Sam maybe sees the flip side. He cares too much. He’s afraid. Afraid that he might have been right all along. Despite the countless reassurances Cas has given him. Sam’s heard a little, though he tried not to pry. It’s pretty clear that Gabriel’s mind isn’t completely lost, but how much of Gabriel will come back? A full recovery isn’t assured. It’s too early to tell. Perhaps Luke can’t take that. Can’t take the thought of never getting his brash, sarcastic, pain in the ass little brother back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam can’t deny that he’s afraid of the same thing… And even if he does come back… Will he feel the same way? Will he remember them? Will he remember what they meant to each other? Doctor Green warned that there might be gaps in his memory, maybe huge ones. Some of it might come back in time. But some of it may never… Sam cried himself to sleep last night, just thinking of all those times they shared, thinking that some of those precious memories may be lost to Gabriel, may never be regained. Perhaps all of them. And without those memories…Will Gabriel… will Gabriel still love him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart clenches painfully in his chest. He knows it’s useless to keep on being carried down this train of thought. It isn’t helpful. It won’t change things either way. He has to focus his mind on the present. On helping Gabriel over this next hurdle. Being there for him. Even if Gabriel doesn’t know who he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he’s little more than a stranger to the man he loves more than anything in the world. </span>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>
  <span>DEAN</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean rubs a hand over his face as he looks down at his cell screen. Shit. Well that makes him feel like the douchiest douche in the world. Messages from both Cas and Sam. He should be there for them. Stand by their side. He joined Cas at the hospital for a little while yesterday. The Doc told them it was a possibility, but Dean figured it would be a little longer. Damn it. Isn’t it too soon? Gabriel seemed pretty frickin spaced out. Though he did muster the energy to glare in Dean’s general direction. Dean is absolutely not going to admit the way his heart clenched at the familiar sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Fuck</em>. He figured he would have more time. That he could get it done before anything crucial happened. Then he could have been there. For Sam, for Cas… At least until… He swallows around the lump in his throat. Until he has to tell Cas what he’s done. But by then he’d have his brother back right? He’d be ok. That’s if… No it’s gonna be ok. This extubation shit will go as planned. Their job tonight will go as planned. Everything will be fine. He’s under no delusions about everything being fine between the two of them then. But, he’ll deal with that hell when he has to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now… for now he’s got to make his excuses and set this shit show in motion. It’s too late to back out. Even if he wanted to. And there’s one thing in all this that he’s certain of. He’s not turning away from this. No matter what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam walks slowly into the room, heart hammering in his chest. But as he approaches and settles in the seat by the bedside, Gabriel doesn’t stir, doesn’t wake. Doctor Green said it might take a lot out of him. That he was likely to sleep a lot in any case as he heals. They’ll monitor his vitals closely, make sure there aren’t any complications. There’s an oxygen supply by his bedside, in case he needs a little extra help. But for now his face is uncovered. A small thin tube runs under his nose, instead of the bulky ventilator equipment that had previously been fed through his throat. The Doctor explained that they would need to do that too. He’s not quite at the stage of being able to eat for himself, and will probably need to be fed through a tube for a few more days, depending on the course of his recovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he looks… God, despite that tube, despite his paleness, despite his face looking thinner, his lips a little cracked under the smear of Vaseline across them… It’s such a familiar sight. His head is to the side, cheek looking a little smooshed beneath him, lips slightly parted in a perfect cupid’s bow. No one’s brushed his hair just yet. Part of it’s sticking up from the side of his head, the curls at the back of his neck, messy and tangled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s heart clenches, stomach flip flopping. He thinks of reaching out and smoothing Gabriel’s hair, maybe running one thumb over his cheekbone. But God, he doesn’t know if he should. What if Gabriel wakes up startled, fearful of the stranger touching him? It somehow doesn’t seem right anymore. He can’t touch his lover until he knows… until he knows it would be welcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks back tears he didn’t realize he was shedding. Damn it, he can’t do this. He can’t break down. He needs to be strong for Gabriel. He wipes the tears roughly from his face and reaches into his bag for the old battered book. He takes a moment to calm himself, to take a few deep breaths, to take one last look at his lover’s beautiful, peaceful face. And then he turns his attention to the text and begins to read.</span>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>
  <span>DEAN</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighs and rubs a hand over his face. Damn it, this is taking too long. He wonders for the millionth time if he should have just done this shit himself. But then again, he’s pretty damn rusty and he was never very practiced at the tech stuff. That was always Sam’s forte. Well it was until he left to go to college. Then Dad took care of a fair bit and they hired a kid to do the more complicated crap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He taps his bluetooth headset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sitrep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby’s gruff voice comes over the other end. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The same as it was five minutes ago. And five minutes before that. So quit micro managin’. You take care of you and I’ll keep this shit show runnin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighs heavily again. Even though he knows it’ll piss Bobby off even more he asks, “Wargames?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear Bobby cursing his name as Charlie makes her reply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ready Player One… I’ve always wanted to say that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiles and shakes his head. “Didn’t that come out like a couple of years ago?”</span>
</p><p><span>There’s a huffing noise on the other end of the comm. </span><em><span>Dude please</span></em> <em><span>tell me you know there was a book or this fellowship can’t last.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>“Uh yeah… right.” Dean can hear Charlie still muttering away in the background. Something about him being a </span>
  <em>
    <span>philistine</span>
  </em>
  <span> and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>norm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whatever the hell that is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head he decides to just leave her to it and move on. “How about you, Henson?” Wait, is Garth too young to get that reference? The only noise that comes over the comm is the rustling of paper and a soft chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks for a moment, but he can’t come up with another name and he’s absolutely not calling him 007 as he asked to be. “Garth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another rustle, another chuckle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Marmaduke, you’re crazy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Earth to Garth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuck starts in his chair, wild eyes searching out a source of sudden danger.<em> Christ</em>. Dean waves him off, motioning for him to get back to work as Garth finally makes his reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry man. Didn’t hear you there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, what the hell were you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My job, hombre.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean rolls his eyes. He paces over to the station and leans against it. Chuck looks up again, bloodshot eyes scanning his face quickly before looking away, shaking hands returning to the keyboard before him. Damn just how many coffees has the little dude had to make him so jittery? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighs and turns his attention back to the matter at hand. “Really? Because it sounded a whole lot like you were slacking off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another sound of amusement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bobby said you’d be all premenstrual and surly working with me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck’s sake. Dean opens his mouth to make his reply, but before he gets the chance to rip Garth a new one Bobby’s gruff voice comes over the other end.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you two princesses are done yammering maybe we can keep the channel clear for more important things like, I don’t know ... a real emergency.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Frickin fine. “Just keep your eyes peeled, ok. Benny and Jo are counting on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean switches off his comm. Bobby will patch him back in if anything arises. He heaves out a sigh before pushing off the station and pacing the room. They could have done without someone as batshit as Garth, they really could have. Jo knows her way around the Art Building and he’s pretty sure they could have avoided the security cameras just fine. A look out’s useful, granted...  provided the fucking look out happens to actually be paying attention... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as much as Dean is loath to admit it, Garth’s proved more than useful. From pilfering keys from a colleague, to somehow manipulating the head of security into revealing his freakin schedule during a drunken poker night. In a way they lucked out big time. There are security stations in all of the major buildings, but due to cutbacks in all departments, there’s no way that they can be manned all the time. Instead the computer systems were upgraded and regular security sweeps implemented. Knowing the timing of those sweeps is a hell of a lot more than Dean could have hoped for. It doesn’t completely mitigate the risks they’re taking, but it gives them a damn good shot at this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Provided Chuck gets his ass moving and finishes up sometime this century. Dean walks over and peers over his shoulder. Chuck just about jumps all the way out of his frickin seat.<em> Christ</em>. There’s jumpy and nervy as fuck, and then there’s Chuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You almost done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would go a lot faster if you didn’t… hover.” His eyes dart over his shoulder and he swallows visibly before adding, “Um please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean steps back a pace and holds up his hands. Not for the first time he wonders how the hell Chuck and Gabriel came to be friends. Apart from both being pretty awesome musicians they seem far too different to have ever connected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his impatience, Dean moves away from the station and paces about the small room some more. But after a few long moments, boredom and curiosity get the better of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So ah Chuck, how did you and Gabriel... you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean makes a face to himself. He didn’t mean to make it sound like he was Chuck’s Dad asking about the nut job new squeeze his son just brought home to dinner. Chuck spins in his chair to blinks up at him. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes in frustration, instead motioning with his head to indicate that Chuck should keep working as they talk. After a beat Chuck spins back around and starts messing around with the settings again. Dean doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing, but thankfully he gets the impression that the man at least seems to know his shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh uh... I needed a roommate so I put out fliers. Gabriel applied and well... you know how he is, I couldn’t exactly say no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean huffs out a laugh at that. Yeah, that’s his brother’s pain in the ass boyfriend through and through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And well I guess he grew on me. We ended up sharing for almost the rest of the four years and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude seriously?” Dean can’t help but interrupt, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, 4 years?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuck turns around and raises his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh don’t get me wrong, I like Gabriel. He’s family. But, four years? 2 weeks was bad enough. Man, you have no idea how many times I walked in on…” Dean trails off and makes a face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh uh I can imagine.” Chuck gives him a sympathetic look before spinning back around, clearly reading the rest of Dean’s sentence from  his expression. “Gabriel kind of has a liberal view on the necessity of clothing. Despite my many protestations he once slept nude… for like a week-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuck brakes off abruptly, slamming a hand over his comm, but not before the most horrendously loud shriek issues from his headset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Becky… I told you,” Chuck hisses .“I did not… absolutely… for the last time… I did not sleep with Gabriel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s eyebrows rise almost up to his hairline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?...  Becky… Becky…No… that was… that was one time! And… there was tequila and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean strides over and grabs the headset from Chuck’s ear. He makes a face at the excited babble he can hear coming from the device. Thankfully he can’t make out most of what she’s saying, but the snatches he does hear are bad enough. He considers crushing it beneath his heel, but Chuck will need it later when they separate, so instead he switches it off and drops it on the desk. He takes a moment to be glad that Gabriel’s brother is standing watch outside the room. Because if he were in here, Dean gets the impression that he’d have made sure to grab the comm first and subjected them all to a play by play of Chuck and Gabriel’s drunken college sexcapades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any ah… any chance you didn’t hear any of that?” Chuck stutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stares at Chuck’s bright red cheeks and wild eyes, before scrubbing a hand over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuck opens his mouth again, presumably to protest his virtue once more, but closes it with a snap when Dean shoots him a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, I don’t… I really don’t want to know.” They talk on this anymore and he’s going to get a frickin visual. He waves a hand in the direction of the bank of monitors. “Just… get back to work ok.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuck takes a moment to stare at him like Bambie caught in the headlights of an 18 wheel truck before finally swinging back around and resuming his work. Christ, this is already a frickin circus and they’ve barely begun. Dean just hopes to hell that Chuck finishes up soon, because it’s past time they got this show on the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel blinks back the bleariness from his eyes. His side hurts and his mouth feels far too dry. A moment ago he was soaring high above the ground on outstretched wings. Wind in his hair, not a care in the world. Now he’s here. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the jump cuts between scenes. Perhaps it’s supposed to throw him off balance. Though why, he hasn’t a clue. There have been no grand revelations, no expositions. Why is he still here? What the hells is he supposed to do? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a noise of frustration. Anything beyond a tumble of random syllables seems to be beyond his capabilities. Hands reach out to him, he flinches away, eyes fixing on the offending being in a hard glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath hitches in his throat. The Sampirition draws back, eyes darting away, but not before Gabriel catches it, not before he sees the agony in those sunflower eyes. So much hurt, so much pain. Gabriel’s heart clenches in his chest. He can’t… Slowly, tentatively, he reaches out until his fingertips make contact with skin. He can feel the fine hairs on the back of it’s hand. How? How can it feel so real?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes, but he doesn’t draw back. He feels the hand beneath him shift, moving until their fingers are twined together. He knows he shouldn’t do this, he knows that if… no </span>
  <em>
    <span>when</span>
  </em>
  <span> this is all ripped away from him… It will destroy him to his very core. But… maybe he can still have this. Just for now. Just for a little while…</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So yeah Chuck and Gabe... sorry not sorry. Chuck is not in any shape or form related to Gabriel and I riff very heavily from KoC for their relationship... which I ship pretty hard. I shall leave the details to your own minds. Go as trashy as you want ;)</p><p>I never know quite how much to write as I don't want to give too much away, but just to say that Sam is very understandably catastrophising in places here. There may be rocky times ahead, but a lot of what he's thinking is just fear. Yeah I guess since I know this is a hell of a tough ride I just want to reassure of the happy ending. I can't say more than that, but they will (potential setbacks aside) get there. </p><p>I'm sorry this fic and the last one has gotten so dark. These perhaps aren't the best of times for such heavy angst. So please take time to take care of yourselves. Sending love and hugs and promise of better times at the end. The next fic, which I'm pining for in my head will be a lot more light hearted with far less angst (though some is inevitable given this hellish times they're going through).</p><p>Ooh I should say here for any of you who aren't on Tumblr. I added a digitally painted banner for The Art of Healing. It is sooooo NSFW. See it <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719409/chapters/50130971">here</a>. Just scroll to the end of the epilogue.</p><p>As for writing... I'm afraid I've hit another sticking point. I find multi character scenes a nightmare to write and I'm reintroducing some characters I only briefly touched on before. Basically I want to do it right but my head's not in the game. I'm a little ahead so I should still be able to post next week, but if I don't get past the block I may have to slow soon. Finger crossed than won't happen. See you all soon. Thanks so much for sticking with me...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*IMPORTANT WARNINGS*: It was already partly covered by the transphobic tag but I wanted to be more specific. There is a distressing incident in this chapter involving an established background character. This includes misgendering and bathroom policing bullshit. Please read with caution. No violence occurs in this chapter and the victim has backup from friends. It is still obviously distressing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter 23</span>
</p><p>
  <span>THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXHIBITION</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You creep silently into the room. Thanks to your stealthy ninja moves the ogre does not notice you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin makes a small yelp of delight, pumping a fist in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie raises one eyebrow. “That is until you step on the third flagstone and a hail of arrows rains down on you from the hidden mechanism above, straight into the center of your party. Dexterity rolls!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel can’t help but let out a loud chuckle as the look of glee on Kevin’s face turns to one of horror, as Natalie thunks her head down on the table, a loud groan issuing from beneath a mass of dark hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Kevin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin glances over at her distractedly, regarding the tumble of dark locks, not with annoyance as Gabriel expected, but with longing. Holy Cats! How did he miss that one? Well to be fair he has been distracted. Hella distracted. By a tall hunk of dorky manly perfection. Clearly he wasn’t paying enough attention. But it’s dead in here tonight, just as he thought it would be. Besides Charlie and her group of intrepid adventurers there’s just a couple of ingenious scholars over by the far wall, sporting earbuds and nursing cheap ass ciders as they write furiously into the notebooks before them. Gabriel has nothing better to do, nothing better than to watch this unfold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I checked for traps!” Kevin exclaims eventually, as soon as he can tear his gaze away from Natalie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laugh that Charlie gives at that is nothing short of gloriously maniacal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You checked for traps on the entranceway young Padawan, you said nothing about the room beyond. Rookie mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin opens his mouth to argue, but Charlie gives him a look, a devious smile spreading across her features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dexterity rolls or you’re getting an arrow in your tiny Halfling heiny regardless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t do that!” Kevin squawks indignantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the scholars looks up, confused by the sudden outburst, before shaking his head and returning to his work. Natalie just groans from underneath her mass of dark hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie raises one eyebrow. “And make it snappy Pippin, because that trap you just set off? Awoke a whole Orc raiding party. They’re headed your way right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Kevin’s turn to groan this time, while Natalie swears like a trooper. The look that Kevin shoots her in response has Gabriel doubled over in laughter. How could he not notice that? How? He recovers just in time to catch Kevin glance over with a look of utter bafflement on his face that only serves to set Gabriel off again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dudes, come on.” Charlie snaps her fingers in the air. “And remember to roll for Barnes and Demian too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel lets out one more hiccupping laugh, straightening up and rubbing the tears out of his eyes. Natalie’s head is still firmly planted on the table, while Kevin finally reaches for his dice, grumbling under his breath about power hungry DMs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know Demian will kill you if you fail this roll right? His HP’s already down to single figures and I’m pretty sure we used the last heal light wounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin huffs out a breath that doesn’t seem to know if it wants to be annoyed or fond. “So they should have come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natalie’s head shoots up at that. “They have Econ tomorrow. Come on. You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open before Kevin replies and Gabriel draws his eyes away from the epic romance playing out before him, a wide smile spreading across his features. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it isn’t Sam. Not yet. Gabriel tries to hide his bitter disappointment as two men walk into the room. Sam will be here soon enough. He shakes his head and steps up to the taps. One of the men takes a seat while the other makes his way over to the bar, glancing around him as he does, with a look of poorly disguised distaste on his face. Gabriel suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. He half wishes that Lucy were here, instead of half way across the State playing house with his semi psychotic other half. These sorts of customers are his specialty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man barely spares him a look as he orders his drinks. Three beers. Great. Looks like they’re going to be treated to another of these charming individuals. Instead the man’s eyes keep on drifting over to the game. Gabriel frowns. He can’t exactly pinpoint it, but he doesn’t like the way the guy is looking at his friends, not one bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the man walks over to his table with his tray of drinks, Gabriel’s eyes drop to his cellphone. He shakes his head. No, he’s being ridiculous. Sam’s busy helping Ellen with the exhibition. He can’t interrupt their work just because his Spidey sense is tingling. Drawing his lower lip into his mouth, he sighs, moving down the bar to grab an empty and bringing it over to the sink to clean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the door swings open again, he almost drops the glass on his foot. He stares open mouthed at the newcomer as he saunters over to join his companions and slouches down in one of the empty chairs. His Spidey sense isn’t just tingling now, it’s blaring in his ear like a comically loud fog horn, as the man looks up, as their eyes meet, as the man’s lips stretch into a cold, cold smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam thanks Benny once more and offers to buy him a beer once this whole thing is over. Benny of course waves him off, wishing him luck before taking his leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam draws in a breath. This is it. He bends down and begins to unwrap the panel. It’s travelled just fine. He can’t see any damage. He just about jumps out of his skin when he straightens up to find Ellen at his elbow. He was so occupied examining his piece that he didn’t notice her approaching. Thankfully she doesn’t make comment, just shoots him a small warm smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want a hand hanging it. I’m sure you’re plenty strong enough, but it’s bigger than I recalled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nods his head. “Uh yeah thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t talk beyond coordinating their movements as they carefully position the piece and make the necessary attachments. As they step back Sam finds himself suddenly uncertain, suddenly nervous. Ellen’s opinion means a hell of a lot to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows and turns to look down at her. At the expression on her face, the apprehension falls away. He feels tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes. Pride. Gabriel’s told him often enough just how proud of him he is. Almost every damn day. Just so he can “get it through that freakish Cromagnon skull” of his. Sam had been a little insulted at that. Gabriel had rolled his eyes, but eventually apologized before continuing to undress him.  Dean too. No matter how disturbed he might be by Sam’s more erotic pieces, Sam knows just how proud of him his brother is. But never… he’s never had this from someone he views as a parental figure. Certainly not his father. Who made it abundantly clear how much he thought Sam was wasting his talents and brains, with something as ‘frivolous’ as art, when he could have been out there helping people like his big brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He dips his head, rubbing a hand over his face, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah sorry, it’s been a long day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got nothing to apologize for Sam, you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks up at her. She gives him a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have seen Gabriel after that first life drawing class. When I told him how proud of him I was, that he’d learned so much in such a little time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did he say?” Sam asks, curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellen smiles and shakes her head. “Not a thing. Just bawled like a newborn babe. Though far less attractively than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam snorts out a startled laugh. Gabriel does tend to get a little blotchy and maybe a little snotty when he cries. But the sight of it always makes Sam’s heart clench in his chest, always makes him want to hold Gabriel tightly until the tears have all dried up. Even if it does mean he gets covered in snot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only you haven’t let me say it yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam blinks stupidly at her for a moment, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks once more at the look on her face. Part of him wants to look away, but he finds he can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam Winchester, I have never been more proud of a student under my tutelage.” Sam bites his lip, feeling tears threaten at the corners of his eyes again. She spares him a soft understanding smile before continuing. “From the moment your portfolio came over my desk I knew you were something special. And beyond that, you’ve come so far. You have no idea how many supposed prodigies swan around here acting like none of us can teach them a damned thing.” She shakes her head and sighs. “But not you. You listened, you learned. You took it all on board and you surpassed all expectations even I had of you. This…” She motions with a hand toward Sam’s panel and the large sculptural form beside it. “This is far beyond anything I’ve seen from a student before. Far beyond the capabilities of a hell of a lot of professionals I’ve come across. Far beyond anything I could produce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam opens his mouth to argue, but at the look on her face he closes it with a snap, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I can’t promise you that everyone will understand. I can’t promise you that everyone will see it as they should. But you remember that. You hold on to what’s important. Be proud of what you’ve achieved. No matter what reactions you get tomorrow. You hear me Sam? You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be sorry about. You hold your head high.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tears really do come then. He dips his head and looks away. A beat later he feels her arms around him, holding him in a brief tight embrace. His breath hitches in his throat, but he manages to stutter out a weak </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span> as she steps back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, let’s get to work. This exhibition won’t catalogue itself and I for one don’t want to be here to the ass crack of dawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam snorts out a laugh as he wipes the tears away. Ellen gives him one last small smile before nodding her head and walking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath, eyes running over his work once more. He has to admit it looks pretty good in place. The two pieces complement each other perfectly, the arc of feathers between them, tying them into one cohesive whole. There’s just one element missing. He feels his cheeks flush, heartbeat picking up a notch or two as he pictures it, as he pictures Gabriel sat beneath those large imposing wings. Naked and beautiful and perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head to clear it. He doesn’t have time to get caught up in the image. He has work to do. Dragging his eyes away, he grabs his backpack. With Gabriel on his mind there’s a temptation to grab his cellphone and check his messages again. Clearly bored by lack of custom, Gabriel’s already sent him a slew of messages. Lots of images of his friends enjoying their role playing game, a few of his pouting bored face and a dark blue blur that Sam’s pretty sure is supposed to be the crotch of his jeans, but didn’t quite come out right. Sam smiles at the thought, but resists the urge, pushing his phone to the side and grabbing the camera instead. It’ll wait. For now he has work to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Straightening up he glances once more at the image of Gabriel with his head thrown back in ecstasy, at the giant wings holding him up as Sam thrusts up into his willing body. He has to shake his head again, a light flush coloring his cheeks. That will keep too. Before he can get mesmerized by the sight once more he walks through to the next room. Might as well start at number 1.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His nerves are fried. He’s tense and on edge and that pisses him off royally. The dickbags haven’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything. Not yet. Just a few sniggers, a few pointed looks towards the group of “nerds” enjoying their enthusiastic game of D&amp;D. Charlie’s noticed, but being Charlie, she’s made it clear that she doesn’t give a crap and Natalie and Kevin are too busy swinging wildly between making goo goo eyes at each other and bickering like an old married couple to take much note. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still bothers him. He can’t help feeling like there’s more to it. Like he’s standing here waiting for the apocalypse to kick off. He may have already sent Sam a few messages. Maybe even tried to call. But Sam’s clearly busy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And fuck but there’s really nothing happening here. Nothing at all. A few pompous sniggers are hardly grounds for reaching for the baseball bat hidden beneath the bar. And more to the point, he’s not fucking stupid. He’s alone here. Sure Charlie would back him up if things got dicey, but Kevin and Natalie are hardly fighters and he’s pretty sure the two scholars, still nursing their cheap ass ciders, would do little but gawk. Lucy taught him to fight. After what happened to Cas, he made sure that neither of them would be defenseless. But he also taught him when to back away from a fight, when to concede to the inconvenient truth. That he’s 5’8” of sass, with little muscle mass to back it up. Of course he hasn’t always followed that lesson. His mouth has gotten him into more than a few sticky situations in the past. With Dickbag Roman himself no less. But then there was one giant dick. Now there are 3. And they’re goddamn linebackers. Of course they are. What the hells is it with these uber douches and popping the gym candy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches for his cell, but stops himself before he can grab it for the umpteenth time. Instead he grips the edge of the bar and closes his eyes tightly in a vain attempt to calm the fuck down. He takes in a few breaths. In, out, in out. He was never exactly great at meditation. Yoga yes, visualizing his inner sanctum, not so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I can’t carry it for you Mr Frodo but… actually I’m pretty sure I can’t actually carry you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel opens his eyes to glare down at Charlie. He is not a goddamn Hobbit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that short and my feet aren’t hairy… well not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>hairy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie reaches over the bar and ruffles his hair, before he can stop her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the hair,” she makes a considering face, “and the ears.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel halts midway through an eye roll as a thought occurs to him. He raises an index finger, lips quirking upwards into a lopsided smile. “And the only magic ring I have vibrates for maximum pleasure while playing the happy birthday tune.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel lets out a loud chuckle at the scrunched up face Charlie makes at that. Come to think of it, why didn’t he bring that along for Sam’s birthday bash? Or perhaps not. The thought of adding vibrations to an already incendiary tableau… Now that would have been-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please… I just need to… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s head snaps up at the urgent, fearful tone in Natalie’s voice. The pit falls out of the bottom of his stomach as he takes in the scene before him, heart suddenly in his throat. Roman and his goons are out of their seats, surrounding Natalie, looming over her as she cowers away. Fuck. Why did he let himself get distracted? As Gabriel watches in horror, Roman takes another step towards her as she shrinks back against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you run along to where we all know you belong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie reacts a hell of a lot faster than he does; she’s across the room before he’s had a chance to do anything but gape stupidly. But Kevin gets there first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave her alone.” There’s a slight stammer in his voice, but an angry conviction in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman turns his attention to Kevin, completely ignoring Charlie’s call to “Back the fuck off”, a cold smirk curving the corners of his lips upwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even know?” The laugh he lets out holds no warmth, no joy. He tilts his head to the side as he looks Kevin up and down. “No of course not, big nerd like you, haven’t gotten in his pants yet have you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That does it. A hard fury uncoils itself from the pit of his stomach; fear and apprehension melting away to nothing. Eyes still fixed on the situation unfolding before him, Gabriel reaches beneath the bar, hand wrapping around the handle of the baseball bat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a long low whistle as he lifts the flap and circles the bar, weapon held tightly by his side. “You sorry sons of bitches. You chose the wrong bar to walk into tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam takes one last shot of Becky’s piece and checks it carefully on the back of the camera. He’s got to admit she’s really outdone herself this time. Her piece is even bigger than Sam’s panel and all… well for lack of a better description, all dick. Gabriel’s cock, for he could hardly mistake his boyfriend’s gorgeous appendage, rendered in impressive detail, huge and imposing and- Sam hastily looks away before his own cock gets ideas. He’s finally done with the photographs. He just needs to upload them to Ellen’s laptop and insert the correct files into the catalogue. Before he can walk over to grab the cable from his bag, Ellen beckons him over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits patiently as she adjusts a number on her sheet. After a beat his curiosity gets the better of him and he glances at the correction she just made. He can’t help the yelp of surprise that escapes him as he takes in the figures, as he takes in the number now attached to his own piece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellen glances up at him, a small smile quirking the corner of her mouth upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got a problem with that?” She raises an eyebrow in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” is all he manages to stammer out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It shouldn’t surprise me that you’re willing to undervalue your work so much. But sadly it doesn’t. You know I can’t let you sell your work for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam bites his lips and dips his head. Ok so maybe $200 was a little too low, but $20,000?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trails off not knowing what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really think,” she says with firm finality. “You ok with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam starts to shake his head in disbelief, then lets out a small laugh as he realizes what he’s doing. “No, ah, I mean yeah sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellen spares him one satisfied nod before returning to her work. Sam leaves her to it, walking over to his backpack, feeling kind of giddy, mind reeling. Of course he’s under no illusions that the piece will sell. No matter the price. There’s no way anyone’s going to hang a painting of him fucking his boyfriend into blissful orgasm on their wall… But to see that many zeros attached to his work? He’s got to admit that’s a major confidence boost. He quickly finds the cable, but pauses there as his eyes land on his cellphone. He really can’t wait, can’t wait to tell Gabriel just how much his ‘beautiful come face’ is worth. Setting down the camera and cable, he grabs the phone and flicks it open. At the sight of all the missed messages and calls, fear starts to bleed into his body, apprehension blossoming within him he opens the messaging app scrolling quickly through the messages. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellen looks up, concern writ upon her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to… I need to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hates to leave her in the lurch. But he can’t… He has to get to Gabriel. Now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t ask for an explanation. The look on his face is apparently explanation enough. Instead she just nods her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves his bag where it is, scrambling to his feet and swiftly exiting the building. He pauses just outside, pulling up Gabriel’s number on speed dial. When the call doesn’t connect, when Gabriel’s ridiculous answer message kicks in after the fourth ring, he doesn’t halt any longer. Swearing under his breath, he disconnects the call, pockets his phone, and heads off towards the Roadhouse at a flat out run. Hoping to hell that he isn’t too late.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Soooo hate to leave you with such a cliffhanger. I'll try to update a little earlier this week, maybe midweek, but I obviously don't want to risk narrowing the gap between my writing and posting too much so it'll depend on how much I get done. I am nearing the end of the writing, but I have a couple of very difficult chapters to write before the epilogue. Still a fair bit to post. Fingers crossed the posting schedule will be increased once the writing's done though I suspect there will be a fair bit of editing needed. Hang on to your hats, we're in for a rough ride.</p><p>A note on Natalie: Ok so I had my OC fleshed out in my head a little, but I haven't had a whole lot of space to really explore her in these fics. She has in my mind always been trans (she was influenced by Nicola Maines and her character on Supergirl), though I couldn't find a way to fit it into the narrative before this fic without it seeming clumsy. Her friends know her story, she's part of the LGBT group and that's it. She's just a typical geeky student living her life until fucking Zachariah starts to stir the pot with his bullshit. I hope she doesn't come across as a plot device in any way. That was not my intention.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman turns, the smirk never leaving his face. If anything the damn thing gets wider. Not a Cheshire cat grin. No. More like fucking  Pennywise. Gabriel suppresses the shiver that wants to run down his spine at the sight. Roman’s not intimidated, not in the least. But with his attention now on Gabriel, Charlie takes the chance to dart in and draw Natalie away. Careful not to take his eyes off Roman and his goons, Gabriel tilts his head in the direction of the staff door. Charlie mercifully gets his meaning in an instant, ushering their friends towards the back. Roman lets them go, seemingly completely unconcerned. He’s far more interested in Gabriel now, eyeing him with amusement as he approaches with his weapon raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel feels a thrill of fear, but he swallows it down. He won’t back away from this, not with his friends in danger. He won’t let these S.O.Bs win. His lips curve upwards into a smirk of his own. “Turns out we only serve decent human beings here. And that… isn’t you. So why don’t you take your douchey little asses out of here before something happens to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman takes a step forward. Just one. But it’s enough to set Gabriel on edge. His grip tightens around the solid wood, hoping the asshole can’t see the slight tremor in his hands. Though judging by the look of amusement in his eyes, that would seem about as likely as Roman and his goons dropping the menacing douchebag act and joining together in a conga line all the way out of the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who’s going to make us leave? You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel sets his jaw and narrows his eyes. “Try me.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Roman makes a point of running his eyes up and down Gabriel’s smaller frame before replying. “You really think a little pipsqueak queer like you can take on the three of us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of his companions actually chortles at that. Gabriel rolls his eyes heavenwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Malfoy, I don’t.” He points the bat in Roman’s direction. “Because assholes like you never play fair. I’m thinking we duke this out, and maybe I get one good swing in, before Crabbe and Goyle here move in and pummel my ass into oblivion. But maybe I won’t play fair either. This goes down and maybe you’ll find yourself singing soprano in church next Sunday, maybe forever more. Just ask the last asshole who dared to underestimate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel takes a deep breath through his nose as dickbag Roman throws back his head and laughs. Anger is starting to overtake the fear again. He needs to keep his damn temper in check. He makes the first move and he might as well shove this bat up his own ass for all he’ll be screwed. He might get a few good hits in true, but eventually his weapon will be taken from him. He has no doubts about that. Probably sooner than he’d care to admit. And if one of these goons gets hold of a baseball bat? He won’t be walking out of here. Probably won’t be walking, period. His only chance is to keep this stalemate going, in the vain hope that the assholes will get bored and leave or maybe Sam-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t have time to think on it any more. It’s like that scene from <em>It</em>, the one that makes Gabriel crap his pants every time he sees it, though he’s seen the damn thing countless times. A hand reaching out from an old photograph that’s horrifically come to life. Roman’s quick. Shockingly, jarringly quick. One moment he’s laughing and the next he’s in motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instinct takes over; grasping fingers close on thin air instead of the delicate skin of his throat, as he ducks just in the nick of time, bringing the bat up in an arc before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t connect either. Gabriel almost stumbles forward, the momentum setting him off balance. He curses himself for swinging too hard, staggering backwards before the next blow can land, shaking his damned hair out of his eyes at the same time. But the blow doesn’t come. Roman’s fist is raised, but Goyle has inexplicably grabbed hold of his arm, both men’s eyes trained somewhere over Gabriel’s left shoulder. He doesn’t know what’s caught their attention, but he’s not stupid enough to turn around and look. Instead he freezes, body held taut like a strung bow as his eyes dart between the three men before him, desperately trying to assess the rapidly evolving situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman looks like he’s going to fight Goyle for a moment, maybe punch the guy out before going for Gabriel’s throat again. Gabriel’s heart is making a valiant attempt to escape his ribcage, he’s sweating so much that he’s a little worried about his grip on the damn bat. The urge to turn tail and run is profound, but instead he stands fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it’s over... Just like that. With one last menacing glare, Roman looks away. The trio make their retreat, the door swinging shut behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The baseball bat clatters to the floor at his feet. He stares down at it stupidly. Heart still pounding away in his ribcage. Clearly not catching the memo. At least, not yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ok man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues to stare at the abandoned weapon for a moment more before turning around. He almost laughs at the sight. It’s one of the scholars… and apparently his savior. He was wrong. They didn’t just sit there and gawk like he thought. Instead they whipped out the millennial best line of defense. The mighty cellphone. He really does chuckle at that. For all their macho posturing, the big bad gets taken down by an amateur make shift film crew? Too afraid of being caught on camera to act. Or maybe not. Goyle clearly had more sense than Gabriel gave him credit for, but he’s pretty sure that Roman would have torn him limb from limb regardless. He sobers at the thought, only just realizing that he’s failed to reply. The kid’s looking at him with mounting concern. Gabriel nods his head quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um Peachy. Uh Thanks-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t get any more out before the staff door swings open, Charlie emerging in a burst  of frantic energy, brandishing what looks like a top shelf bottle of gin, a lighter and a rag. Ah. Yikes. Better get on that before his humble place of employ is reduced to nothing but ash and rubble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s heart is thundering against his ribcage, his breath burning in and out of his lungs. The Roadhouse is finally in sight. He slows to a halt a little ways back. As much as he hates to delay, charging in without thinking may do more harm than good. He takes a moment to assess the situation from back here while he catches his breath. There’s not much to see. The blinds are drawn as they always are at this time of night. He’ll need to get a little closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considers for a moment circling around the back and going in that way, but unless Gabriel’s propped the door open for extra air, the way may be closed and he can’t afford the potentially wasted time to find out. No, he’ll just have to be careful. Part of him wishes for a sidearm or any weapon at all, but mostly, mostly he wishes for his brother. If he’d been thinking a little clearer maybe he would have called up Dean on the way. 3 against 1 aren’t exactly great odds, even with Sam’s training. Of course Gabriel’s there, Charlie too. But he has no idea if either of them can fight and judging by Gabriel’s description they could end up seriously injured if anything kicks off. Assuming it hasn’t already. Assuming his friends aren’t already… Fuck no. He can’t think like that. It’s too late for Dean and too late to think of procuring a weapon. He’ll just have to make do with the skills he has. He takes a few deep breaths more to calm his nerves. He can’t let fear take over, can’t lose his nerve. His friends need him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel</span>
  </em>
  <span> needs him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steeling himself, Sam creeps cautiously forward. When he reaches the entranceway, he flattens himself against the wall. Another deep breath. Moving carefully, trying not to make a sound, he edges the door open, peering inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief floods through him at the sight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Whole and healthy and safe. He’s sitting with his hand placed on the back of the shaking hunched figure beside him. Sam can see little from here but a sheath of dark hair. Natalie. Shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries his best not to startle anyone as he pushes the door open and enters, but it’s clear from the way the figures surrounding Natalie jump to their feet with a screech of wood on wood, just how on edge the group is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The palpable tension bleeds from the room an instant later as he’s recognized as friend not foe, Charlie and Kevin settling back down, looking worn, but relieved. Gabriel hovers where he is, clearly torn between going to Sam and staying by Natalie’s side. Heart clenching in his chest, Sam closes the distance between them. He gathers Gabriel to his chest, holding him there, briefly, but tightly before letting go and turning to the group as a whole. He’s a little afraid to ask, but he really needs to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… What did I miss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam takes in a long breath, nuzzling into Gabriel’s hair and scenting the comforting familiarity of his Strawberries and Cream shampoo, before pulling back to look at Gabriel’s upturned face</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to leave you,” he finds himself confessing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel looks like he’s going to roll his eyes for a moment, but he halts halfway, features softening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to sweat it Hotsauce. I’ll lock-up, tidy up and just cool my heels until you get back. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates a moment, mouth open, like he wants to add a tagline. Maybe make some suggestions about what he wants Sam to do to him then, but instead he just reaches up a hand, pulling Sam down into a brief, but verging on dirty kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn it. Sam closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as Gabriel pulls back. He knows Gabriel’s right, that it makes sense for Sam to make sure the others get home ok. They can’t wait until the end of Gabriel’s shift and clear up. Natalie’s too badly shaken up. Sam had suggested the station might be a good idea, but the others were just a little too worn out. Charlie agreed to contact campus security once she and Natalie were home and they’ll file a report later the next day, once Charlie’s done with the exhibition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam bites his lip, but nods his head. The sooner he gets the others home, the sooner he can get back to Gabriel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel hops up on the table and swings his legs back and forth, taking one last long drag from his alcopop before setting the empty bottle down beside him. He heaves out a sigh. The alcohol has soothed his frayed nerves a little, but he feels ragged and worn thin. It’s been hours. Roman and his band of merry assholes are long gone. He could go home. Rest. Or maybe… maybe he could get himself all prepped and ready for Sam’s return. All worked up and loose and needy and- He lets out a long breath. No. He promised Sam, promised him that he would stay put until he got back. Damn it. He retrieves the empty bottle and starts picking at the label. He stops an instant later, rolling his eyes. Way to be a cliché. It’s only been a couple days for fuck’s sake. Just a couple of short days without sex, and he’s already pathetically needy, desperate and on edge. The problem is, he’s gotten greedy. Far too used to the best sex life he’s ever had- Greed. Is that really the greatest of his sins? Is Zachy right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s grip on the bottle tightens. He has a sudden urge to hurl it across the room. But he thinks better of it at the last minute. He’d only have to clean it up and it would do little to assuage his anger. No. Fuck that. He might be the greedy ass come slut that Zachy paints him to be, but compared to the man himself? He’s a goddamn saint. Because Roman might be the nuttiest nut job he’s ever come across, and he’s counting Lucy’s other half, who makes Harley Quinn seem like a girl scout. But he’s pretty damned sure who was behind this whole merry showdown. Who wound Roman up like a clockwork bomb and sent him hurtling in Gabriel’s direction. He sets his mouth in a firm line. That’s it. After the exhibition he’ll take another crack at it. Get his Veronica Mars on one more time. He may have come up empty last time, but then he was on his lonesome. Now… now he has an expert hacker and two former P.I.s in his back pocket. Zachariah will get his just desserts. No doubt about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel slides off the table and paces over to the empties can. Much as he’d like to punch Zachy’s  smarmy face in, that’s not really an option right now. This will have to do instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s the satisfying crunch. Maybe it’s the whoop of joy he lets out as he hurls the last bottle against the side of the container with unnecessary force, smashing the glass into smithereens. But by the time he realizes his mistake, it’s too late, far too late. He stares down at the shattered remnants of the only weapon he could have used, a cold dread seeping through his veins. His hands clench into fists at his side. Tamping down the panic that threatens to swallow him whole, he turns.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah yeah... sorry? </p><p>A few notes in which I probably explain too much as usual: The 'It' Gabriel is referencing is the miniseries. I've no idea if that scene is in the films of not. Being close to my age, that would be his preferred version. Also... Tim Curry. I never know how much to explain stuff... Am I merely drawing attention to my massive gaping plot holes? Hmm. Anyway the Roadhouse isn't actually on University grounds hence the no calling security to help them home, plus time factors. It was simply quicker for Sam to do it. Charlie is going to call them so they can keep an eye on their accommodation. As to why the 'Scholar' doesn't just call the cops... well it was a bit of a split second decision. He's read about instances when cellphones were used as a deterent for violence. If it wasn't for 'Goyle' that may have been a mistake.</p><p>Posting update: I have finished writing! Hooray! And the vast majority of the editing, though I'll no doubt faff a bit with it. As such I'm going to post fairly rapidly. As a bonus for your patience I'm posting another chapter now... though it's in the Present time thread so won't resolve the cliff hanger. Won't keep you long for that either though, I promise.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have completely given up on chapter summaries as I'm rubbish at writing them. so.....</p><p>*WARNINGS*: mention of an offscreen severe injury to a non established character. Non graphical. I honestly don't know how much to put here as I might end up spoiling things too much. See end notes for further info if you're concerned.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>DEAN</p><p>Chuck swirls round in his seat, a broad grin splitting his features. A fraction of a second later it falters. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. </p><p>“We done here?” He also resists the very real urge to tag on the word <em> finally </em>.</p><p>“Um uh I think so..?” At Dean’s impatient look Chuck swallows before nodding his head firmly. “I mean yes. I thi- I mean, I’m pretty sure the loop’s long enough. There’s no visible jump cuts that I can see.”</p><p>Dean nods his head. He starts to turn to leave, but at the last moment halts, stepping up to Chuck and patting him once on the shoulder.</p><p>“Good work.”</p><p>The little dude looks like he’s just been awarded a frickin Oscar for his directorial work. Jesus. Dean pats his shoulder one more time before making his way to the door.</p><p>Luke’s standing just outside, appearing more bored than alert. Dean thinks of pausing to give him the lecture once more, about how serious this shit is, but they’re running short on time, so he simply catches the man’s attention and gestures down the hall. The douchebag opens his mouth as if he’s going to make some smart assed comment, but at the look on Dean’s face he closes it, instead making a sarcastic salute and an exaggerated gesture for Dean to lead the way. Fuck’s sake. Doing this shit with Gabriel would have been bad enough, but the eldest Novak is something else. </p><p>Biting back the comment he sorely wants to make, Dean merely spares the asshole a glare before moving off down the hallway. Despite the theatrics Luke follows closely behind him, moving silently and carefully, like he actually frickin gets it. He may play the asshole, time and time again, but he’s invested. More than any of them. He’ll play ball.</p><p>It doesn’t take long before they find it, the brass panel bearing her name below the important sounding title of “Dean of Faculty.” Show time. Luke pauses beside him, turning to keep watch without being told. Good. Dean pulls the keys from his pocket. It takes a few tries, almost enough for him to consider pulling out his trusty lock picking kit instead, but finally he finds the right one. They’re in. </p><p>Dean’s eyebrows raise almost to his hairline at the sight inside. Shit. Their job just got a hell of a lot harder. It’s spotless. Not just clean and tidy, but frickin spotless. The walls are bare bar a couple of certificates. A shelving unit with precisely aligned text books is situated next to a wide shuttered window. The desk is just as sparse, holding a sleek desktop computer that has the appearance of being brand new is so frickin clean, and the one personal touch in the room, a framed photograph, is set perfectly level with the edge of the desk. Dean stares down at the three stiff smiles looking back at him. That has got to be the most damn uncomfortable family portrait he’s ever seen and he’s seen plenty with his little brother. Sammy may have inherited the Winchester good looks, but point a camera at him and he does the weirdest shit with his face. Dean’s eyes fix on the youngest family member. So this is the fucking asshole that Cas mistakenly trusted. He doesn’t look like much. Sandy brown hair, blue eyes. Not unattractive, but nothing to write home about either.</p><p>Unbidden, Dean feels anger start to take hold of him. Cas cared for him, trusted him and the son of a bitch fucking tortured him for it. He’s almost too distracted, almost too caught up in the rage that’s building inside him. He almost doesn’t catch the motion. Snapping out of it just in time, he grabs hold of Luke’s wrist just before he makes contact with the frame. </p><p>Dean thinks for a moment that the other man’s going to take a swing at him, his own rage flaring brightly in his eyes. But something passes between them, maybe an understanding. They’re going to take these assholes down. For Cas, for Gabriel, for all the others these sons of bitches have crushed beneath their heels without a single thought. Luke’s jaw clenches, but his body relaxes. Dean lets go and he steps back.</p><p>“Don’t touch anything without gloves man. And nothing we don’t need to.” Luke makes a face at him, but doesn’t say a word. “Dude, this is not Magnum P.I. They check for that shit.”</p><p>Luke merely nods his head, pulling his gloves on with no further complaints as he heads over to the filing cabinet. Dean lets out a relieved breath before settling down behind the desktop. He makes a face at the keyboard before him. Does she take a frickin vacuum to the thing each night? He shakes his head. They’ll have to be really damned careful. They drop so much as a hair in here and they’re screwed. With a sigh he pulls Charlie’s password generator from his pocket. <em> Let’s do this shit </em>.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>He’s feeling kinda drowsy.  Part of him wants to drift off into the empty abyss, but mostly, mostly he wants to look across at the beautiful vision before him. He forces his eyes to stay open, at least for a little longer.</p><p>He’s thought long and hard on it, when his mind was clear enough to think at all, and he’s made a few decisions, or one rather big one. It may be foolhardy in the extreme, may hurt all the more in the long run, but at this point he cares little for the consequences. He’s decided to keep him… it… whatever. The Sampirition. Hold on to it as long as he can. It may not be his Sam, but it looks so heart achingly like his Sam, acts like him, <em> feels </em>like him. Though sometimes the fine details are wrong. Whichever bored deity made this shit up, got a few things a little skewed. Sign language for instance. Sam doesn’t know it, yet the Sampirition seems to be a near expert.</p><p>Gabriel watches the confident fluid motions those huge hands make in the air. He catches snatches, but mostly, well mostly he’s just picturing those hands on him. Long fingers inside him, teasing pleasure from his body. He shivers. He’s not sure he can get it up here, fleeting images hint that he can, but maybe not right now. Still, he’s just content to watch. </p><p>His lips quirk upwards of their own accord. That he did catch. Sam seems to be having a conversation with some apparition behind Gabriel, a conversation about Casa Erotica, unless Gabriel’s very much mistaken. And judging by the faint flush over Sam’s high cheekbones? Nope, not mistaken at all.</p><p>At the next motion he frowns. No that’s not right, not right at all. He’s pretty sure that Sam didn’t mean to refer to his good self and co-stars as ‘ladies of the night’, but that’s exactly what he just did.</p><p>“P-porn stars…”</p><p>His voice comes out barely above a whisper and sounding nothing like his voice at all. All cracked and worn out and rough. Ok maybe the rough is like him. Sam hears him despite the low register, eyes widening in surprise, the most beautiful wide smile stretching across his features even as his cheeks flush a brighter scarlet. He tries again, if only to see more of that smile.</p><p>“Porn stars Sam… they were porn stars…”</p><p>He feels like he just ran a damned marathon, but it’s worth it for the way Sam’s eyes light up like fireworks on the fourth of July.</p><p>“Don’t worry. It’s perfectly normal for coma patients to say inappropriate things. I’ll just make a note of it on his chart.”</p><p>Sam looks startled for a moment then his eyes look up over Gabriel’s shoulder, presumably towards the disembodied voice.</p><p>“Uh no… You don’t get it…. That was… uh… that was actually appropriate.” If anything Sam’s cheeks flush an even more glorious color.</p><p>Gabriel’s eyelids are drooping, fatigue dragging him under, but he forces them to stay open. Just a little while longer damn it.</p><p>“Your boyfriend’s first words to you after waking from a coma are… ‘Porn stars’ and you don’t deem that inappropriate?”</p><p>Gabriel can actually hear the air quotes from the disembodied voice and decides that they’re a giant douche bag. Sam opens his mouth, but someone else beats him to it. </p><p>“You’ve clearly never met Gabriel Novak before.”</p><p>Gabriel’s eyelids feel like they have lead weights attached to them but he drags his eyes over to the source of the new voice. Gail Green? The Mayor’s wife? Standing in the doorway, looking super casual in a set of blue scrubs and with an air of whimsical amusement about her features. Hells, this is one loopy purgatory indeed. He chuckles, though the sound that comes out is more like a pathetic wheeze. As Gail makes her way into the room Gabriel finally lets his eyelids flutter shut. </p><p>He can feel his mind slipping, drawing closer to that empty abyss, but something’s nagging at the edges of his tattered and scrambled thoughts. A word. Comma? No that makes no sense. Not that there’s ever much sense to be had here.</p><p>And then it hits him. Hits him to his core. </p><p>
  <em> Coma. </em>
</p><p>Holy cats! He did not see that one coming. Is it true? He tries to swim back into full consciousness, but his eyes refuse to open. Weariness is dragging him rapidly under. He tries to hold on, but it’s no use. So instead he holds on to that one word as the darkness takes him once more. It’s too important to forget.</p><p>~~~</p><p>DEAN</p><p>Dean resists the urge to whirl in his chair like a frickin 5 yr old. It’s like he’s surplus to requirements at this point. He merely had to use the password generator to gain access here, then run Charlie’s “Back door” program and “by the last light of Durin’s day” she was in. His only task now is to keep an eye on things as the Nerd Herd do the heavy lifting. Charlie’s shifting through the financials while Natalie’s sorting through files and Kevin’s beginning the decrypting process on a few suspect emails and files. </p><p>He lets their chatter wash over him. He doesn’t understand it all, but they don’t seem to have found much yet. His eyes drift over to Luke, who’s pulling out files, rifling through them and shoving them back a little too haphazardly. Fuck’s sake. He makes a face, but Luke pointedly ignores him. Looks like he’s going to have to go back in before they leave and straighten them up. </p><p>
  <em> You know this amount of funds just lying around… Think how much good it could do in the hands of an LGBT charity… </em>
</p><p>His attention snaps back to the voices on his comm. </p><p>“Back away from the loot Maid Marian-”</p><p>
  <em> You know they actually tried to send their daughter to a conversion camp right? </em>
</p><p>Dean lets out a long breath. There’s nothing he’d like more than to hit these assholes where it hurts. Luke pauses in his rifling, body held taut. Clearly listening.</p><p>“I get it, believe me I do. But we can’t leave a trace. We find what we’re looking for and we hand over just enough, let the Sheriff’s department find the rest. We mess up, do any shit like that and it might not just mean our asses in jail.” He lets out another long breath. “They could walk. We do this right or it’s all for nothing.”</p><p>Charlie’s silent for a moment, but eventually she concedes, the sound of furious typing coming over his comm again. Luke replaces the last file and shuts the drawer with a hell of a lot more force than is strictly necessary, but he says nothing as he stalks over to the bookshelf.</p><p>A few painfully long moments pass by. They don’t have a whole lot of time left. He hopes to hell that there’s something in all of this crap that they’ve downloaded, something they can use. He frowns. Luke’s been suspiciously quiet. He swings round in his chair to find the man perched on the window sill, casually leafing through a book. <em> Christ. </em></p><p>“Dude, I thought I told you not to touch anything we didn’t need to touch. You’re not going to find anything in,” he squints his eyes and makes a face when he reads the title on the book’s spine, “The <em> Holy Bible </em>.”</p><p>Luke glances up from the pages a broad mocking smile stretching his lips upwards. “Dean, Dean, Dean. I believe you owe me an apology.”</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes and raises his eyebrows pointedly. Luke lets out a low chuckle before deigning to reply.</p><p>“If you were a morally corrupt individual masquerading as the epitome of moral fortitude…” Luke pauses, presumably for dramatic emphasis. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “Tell me, where would you hide your sins?”</p><p>Dean feels his pulse quicken. <em> Fuck, really? </em> He waits for Luke to elaborate, but the fucker just sits there looking incredibly pleased with himself. With a huffed out breath of annoyance, Dean levers himself from the chair and makes his way over to where Luke remains perched. Luke doesn’t say a word as he approaches, merely hands the book over. Dean frowns, eyes catching on the newspaper clipping hidden between the pages. On first reading it doesn’t make sense. Single mum, victim of a hit and run. He swallows. A little too frickin close to home. But the woman in question wasn’t killed. Instead she was left paralyzed. He stares at the grainy image. Could this be the daughter they disowned? But no, Dean’s pretty sure her name is Eve, not Lisa and even if she changed her name, the pretty young woman smiling up from the photograph bears little resemblance to the rest of the family. But something in his gut tells Dean that Luke’s correct. There’s something about the incongruent placement of this clipping that tells Dean that this is important. </p><p>Still frowning, he hits his comm. “Hey Jo, Does the name Lisa Braeden mean anything to you?” Besides Chuck, Jo’s known Gabriel the longest. It’s possible that he mentioned something of his own investigation to her.</p><p>
  <em> No. Should it? We haven’t found a whole lot here. Nothing in Zachariah’s file except that letter of complaint. Which makes me want to punch him in the dick, but I’m not sure that would help us any. </em>
</p><p>Dean snorts out a laugh. “Yeah you and me both. It would be something from Gabriel’s past, or rather Zachariah’s.”</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry. Nothing I can recall. </em>
</p><p>The comm clicks, Bobby’s gruff voice sounding in his ear. <em> You want me to run a search Kid? What’s the context?  </em></p><p>He opens his mouth to reply, but before he can get a word out the comm clicks again. </p><p>
  <em> Uh guys… </em>
</p><p>Chuck. Shit. Looks like they’re out of time. Dean grabs his cell and clicks off a few shots of the newspaper clipping as he makes his reply.</p><p>“How long have we got?”</p><p>
  <em> Oh! Uh it’s not that… it’s just… I might have patched Becky through to my comm. So she could hear what was going on and ah… </em>
</p><p>Fuck’s sake, get to the point. He’s just about to demand that the dude gets over his verbal constipation and does just that when it all comes out in a rush.</p><p>
  <em> BeckyknowswhoLisaBraedenis… I’ll… I’ll let her tell you herself. </em>
</p><p>Fuck no. But Dean doesn’t have a chance to decline before Becky’s excited babble sounds in his ear. And then he’s too busy listening as everything starts to slot into place.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Continued Warnings*: the character in question is the victim of a hit and run which leaves them paralyzed<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>Apologies for blatantly using a character as a plot device. Totally not like the SPN writers would have done such a thing with the character in question. </p><p>In other notes, I had to get the porn stars line in there. It was just too good not to use XD. Next update will be at the weekend. I'm really not sure which day as it depends on when I get the time. See you soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*WARNINGS*: canon typical violence, threat of torture</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXHIBITION</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Screwed is a relative term. Gabriel has to admit that on occasion he can be somewhat… overly dramatic. He’s been in a few dicey situations in his messed up life. Maybe more than a few where he’s come incredibly close to being royally screwed. And not in a fun way. But this situation right now? Screwed doesn’t even begin to cut the mustard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no escape. Even if he did attempt to make a run for it, he’d be caught before he made it more than a few paces. Calling for help? Just as ineffective. There’s no one out here at this time of night. No one but his good self and the S.O.Bs standing before him, or rather looming above him like 3 ominous monoliths of gigantic proportions. He has the urge to run, he has the urge to curl into a ball and whimper… But instead he stands his ground and levels his very best glare at Roman’s smirking face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman tilts his head to the side in a manner that reminds him disturbingly of Cas, only decidedly more psychotic than socially awkward. “Not so mouthy without your weapon are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well no shit Sherlock. If his balls weren’t busy trying to climb their way back into his body right now, he’d honestly worry a little about his own sanity. It’s not difficult to do the math. He needs to level the playing field, even just a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t suppose you’d agree to settle this honorably? Mano a mano?” Gabriel makes an exaggerated frown and flings his arms out, trying to exude confidence that he doesn’t feel. He’s sure Roman’s not buying it. Not buying it at all. But there’s no way he’s letting this giant douche see how utterly terrified he is. “No of course not, honorable’s hardly your style.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one tense moment Gabriel thinks he’s pushed it too far. Maybe insulting the man’s integrity wasn’t the way to go. Maybe he’s just brought up the scheduled beating to right the hell now. But just as Gabriel thinks that maybe he made a mistake, that as futile as the attempt might have been, perhaps he should have chosen to make a run for it, Roman’s glower twists into a Pennywise special. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not reassuring. Not reassuring at all. Even if he does then motion for his goons to take a step back. Perhaps Gabriel stands a slim modicum of a chance now. Maybe. But he’s not going to delude himself. Roman’s faster, stronger and considerably more certifiable than he is. And even if by some miracle he makes it out of this... Even if he somehow comes out the victor in this woefully mismatched death match… The chances of Crabbe and Goyle </span>
  <em>
    <span>staying</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of it are-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope no time to worry about that now. No time at all. He just has to stay alive. At least for the time being. And that… that will be some trick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s little warning. Just like the last time. One moment Roman’s grinning that horrifying wide toothy grin and the next he’s a fucking motion blur. But this time Gabriel’s ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first blow misses him. By a mere inch. Hard and fast. With enough force to have knocked him out cold in one massive suckerpunch. It’s a mistake. The momentum sets Roman off balance. Only for a fraction of a second, but Gabriel takes the opening this time, steps in to deliver a riposte. It’s a glancing blow at best, merely a tickle to the man’s ribs, but Gabriel doesn’t miss the way Roman’s smile falters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t help the smirk that spreads over his features at the sight. Roman wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting that Gabriel would stand any chance at all. Thought he was an easy target. Big mistake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his predicament Gabriel gets lost in that heady feeling, in the adrenaline flowing through his veins. He’s not defenseless. Not weak. The smile never leaves his face as he darts in and lands another blow while Roman’s caught off guard. It does little more than the first, but the look on Roman’s face is satisfying enough.  Damn, he’s almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoying</span>
  </em>
  <span> this. Roman’s pouty face, the wild startled eyes. Oh not so startled now. More angry. Angry and determined. Raspberries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next few rounds are a little more evenly matched. Roman’s not underestimating him anymore. He’s almost as fast, but also a whole lot more considered. Gabriel has to sidestep rapidly to avoid a sharp uppercut to the chin, then dance out of the way of a forceful blow that would have knocked all the air out of his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spares a moment to wish that he’d kept up the running with Sam, or done much exercise at all. He may not be the pushover that Roman expected him to be, but he’s hardly Bruce Lee. He’s tiring. Way too fast. Whereas Roman barely looks like he’s breaking a sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missteps, feet suddenly a little clumsier than they were before. He doesn’t take the full brunt of the attack, but Roman lands a nasty hit to his ribs and before he can recover, before he can do so much as move back into a defensive stance, he takes a forceful blow to the shoulder. Pain blossoms sharply in the joint as the rest of his arm is rendered numb and useless. Oh crap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t keep this up. Roman’s too damn good. Younger, faster, fitter, every possible -er that Gabriel can think of in his delirious state. Soon he’s going to be overwhelmed. Really fucking soon. Time to fight dirty. Honor be damned. Gathering the dregs of his remaining energy, watching carefully for the perfect opening, Gabriel goes in for a nutcracker special.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Ha!</em> That did it. Should have gone for that one first really. It would have been a whole lot- </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh crap</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His victory is short lived. He has little time to revel in the sight of Roman crumpling to the ground in agony, clutching at his crown jewels. His whoop of joy is cut short, morphing into a strangled yelp as he’s grabbed from both sides, dragged over to the wall and slammed into it with enough force to knock the wind from his body. Of course. Of fucking course. Of course they wouldn’t let him win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to struggle, but it’s useless. There are two of these assholes holding him fast. He’s worn out, all energy expended in that one last hail Mary. He has nothing left. He can only watch in mute horror as Roman recovers. Way too damn fast. How the fuck is that even possible?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman’s right up in his personal space in seconds. Gabriel can feel his breath against his overheated skin. It’s not fetid exactly, just smells of beer. Nevertheless, Gabriel wonders for one delirious moment if he’s going to be subjected to a Ripley special. The thought makes him flinch back, smacking his head against the wall in the process. Great. That’s just great. Maybe he can knock </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span> unconscious and bypass all this shit. Roman’s lips curve upwards at the sight. He tilts his head sideways in that unnerving manner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s about time someone taught you some manners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam stands frozen on the doorstep. Something unpleasant twists deep inside him. He’s being ridiculous, he knows he is. Isn’t he? Gabriel’s safe inside the Roadhouse, awaiting his return. Safe. There’s no way that he- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam grips the railing tightly as a tidal wave of sensation hits him full on. Blistering heat, smoke burning through his lungs. He closes his eyes against the onslaught, but that’s worse still. Because then he sees it, Gabriel trapped inside the Roadhouse, screaming out his name as flames erupt around him, consuming him whole. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck no. No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes in a deep breath. In out. In out. That was years ago. It was Jess. Not Gabriel. Gabriel’s safe. It takes long torturous minutes, but finally his vision clears. Finally he comes back to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even still the unease remains. Shaking his head, he slips his cellphone from his back pocket bringing up Gabriel on speed dial. The unease increases as it continues to ring, the pit falling out of his stomach when he hears the familiar ridiculous tones of that fake Hungarian accent. He calls off and stares down at the screen, at the wide dimpled smile staring back at him. He’s being ridiculous. Gabriel’s probably just gone to the rest rooms or maybe thrown on the jukebox to relieve his boredom. If Sam turns up all panting and covered in sweat he’ll probably be mocked something rotten for the rest of the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But none of that matters. He may be going crazy, but he’s simply not going to take the chance. Slipping the phone into his back pocket he takes off towards the Roadhouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s thundering heart makes a valiant attempt to escape his ribcage. His mind reels. Is he going to die here? Oh God. Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thinks frantically of something, anything that will diffuse this situation. He’s usually good at this. Can talk himself out of any- A memory flashes in his mind. The linebacker, stepping hurriedly back with a look of horror on his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Before he can think any more on it, before he can analyse just how catastrophically stupid he’s about to be, the words are spiraling out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I really thought you hated me, but I should have seen it all along. You’re nothing but the big kid in the playground pulling the pigtails of his first cr-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It happens almost too fast for him to process. Before he can figure out what’s happening, before he has a chance to brace himself, the concrete’s coming up to meet him. He narrowly avoids a spectacularly painful face first landing, twisting his body just in time. As it is, all the wind explodes from his body in a rush. He rolls over and gasps in a ragged breath, desperately trying to re-inflate his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when he sees it. The glint of metal in moonlight. Fear grips him tightly. The next breath stutters in his chest. He feels like he’s suffocating, but somehow his muscles respond to his silently screaming requests. He scrambles backwards, all the time knowing in his heart that it’s utterly useless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fingers tighten in his hair, dragging him back the way he came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel freezes as he feels the shocking cold of the metal against his overheated skin. This is it. He knows in this instant that his time is well and truly up. He wants to scream at the injustice of it all. Why now? Why the fuck now? When everything is finally going right in his life. When he’s finally found that one thing that makes him feel whole. Clichés be damned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears start to prick at his eyes, he feels a sob start to climb its way up his throat, but he swallows it down. His time may be up, but he’ll be damned if he gives Roman the satisfaction of seeing him whimper and break down. Instead he looks up, meeting Roman’s eyes with defiance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman laughs, the sound distant and muffled to Gabriel’s ringing ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… I said…the …. Fuck… doing man...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the… Goyle? Is that Goyle? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Unbidden, hope starts to blossom in his chest. Is it possible? Will Goyle step in again? Is there a chance that he’ll get out of this alive?  He can hear another voice join the fray, but he can’t make out the words. It matters little, Roman ignores them both. The knife, which had left his skin for the briefest of moments, is back again. He bites back the sheer panic that threatens to swallow him whole as he feels the cold bite of the metal just below his left eye. He can’t move. Roman’s hand is still painfully fisted in his hair. And if he flinches… </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh fuck… oh fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder… will he still want you if I put out one of these pretty little eyes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world recedes. The ringing in his ears intensifies, until all he can hear is the sound of his own thundering heartbeat, the sound of the blood rushing through his body. He desperately wants to awaken from this nightmare and maybe a part of him just wants it to be over. Just let it be over. He can’t… can’t do this anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are voices but he can’t make out a single word. He’s aware of little but the cold press of metal, the sheer vicious lunacy in the eyes looking back at him. There’s a flash of pure fury. Gabriel braces himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only… the blade doesn't slice into his skin. Instead, shockingly, it’s gone. His mind reels, barely able to decipher what’s happening as he’s abruptly let go, left to slump to the ground. As the shadows before him move away. He catches mere snatches. A meaningless jumble of words and then there it is. That voice. So familiar. He thinks he’s dreaming it for a moment, delirious mind conjuring up the one thing he wants to hear above all else. But as the voice draws nearer his head begins to clear, reality swimming back into sharp focus until… There it is again. His name. Called once more. Real. God it’s real. Relief hits him like a tidal wave, flooding his system with warmth, with hope. Sam. His Sam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a strangled sob. Carefully, gingerly he draws his body upwards, staggering to his feet. His limbs feel like jelly, barely able to support his body. He leans heavily on the wall with one arm, the other going to his side as pain flares in his abused ribs.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Ah fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He looks up just in time to see Sam’s long frame come barreling around the corner. Sam’s eyes widen at the sight of him. Full blown puppy dog eyes homing in on his battered and bruised and thoroughly fucked up state. Something clenches deep inside him. He feels the overwhelming urge to soothe that pain away, to chase away the fear in those eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there… handsome fella… Looking for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s lip twitches upwards. Just a fraction, but it’s enough. He feels his body slump forward, legs finally giving way. But he doesn’t hit the ground, doesn’t fall, because suddenly there are arms around him, holding him close, keeping him safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel hisses in a breath as the wrapped icy cold bundle is pressed to his throbbing shoulder. He tries to hold it back, but there it is… Ah God those eyes. He looks away. He survived one hell of a dicey situation. Came through the other side, only to be done in by those puppy dog eyes. Damn it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you… I’m fine. Peachy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gabe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh God. He looked again. He shouldn’t have looked. His eyes dart away as he takes in a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, don’t think I’m not grateful for the thrilling heroics and all but…  you could have at least done it shirtless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam huffs out a breath that’s half laugh, Gabriel can’t help but look up to catch that slight hint of amusement on Sam’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Gabe…” He laughs and shakes his head, the smile falling from his face an instant later. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel lets out a sigh of his own. “It’s nothing but a few bruises … and a gaping hole in my pride…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s features soften. One hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, thumb sweeping gently over his cheekbone. Gabriel lets out a shuddering breath, leaning into the touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were three of them Gabe. I didn’t see them…” His jaw clenches, anger flaring brightly for an instant before his gaze softens again. “But Charlie told me… even I couldn’t have taken them on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel somehow doubts that. It was there in his eyes. If the assholes had stuck around, Gabriel’s willing to bet that none would have been walking out of there. And part of him, a very big part of him, kind of wishes that was exactly how it went down. Consequences be damned. Only… Fuck. He closes his eyes, takes a few breaths. Not now. This… all of this can wait. He knows it’s unfair, perhaps even full hardy in the extreme… to hold back, to not tell Sam every part of it… But that expression confirmed it. There’s no way Sam would let it go. He’s having a hard enough time of it as it is. He lets Sam know exactly what went down, just how close he came to… No. There’s no way Sam would go through with the exhibition. No way that he would give a damn about his career. Sam’s prospects for the future would be torn to shreds and it would all be Gabriel’s fault. All his fault for not keeping one simple promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam opens his mouth, Gabriel knows in an instant exactly what he’s going to say and heads him off before he can utter it. “We’ve been through this Sam. I’m not going down to the station.” At the look on Sam’s face he concedes. “Not tonight. After. I promise. We go in, we knock that ball out of the park and then we go deal with...” He trails off, waving a hand in the air in lieu of all the words he can’t utter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s jaw clenches again. He looks away. Damn. Gabriel hates to do this. He really does. Part of him knows that Sam’s right even. But he won’t sacrifice one thing for another. It’s only a day. Not even that. Then they can pull all this trauma out, into the open air and- He barely manages to suppress the shiver that goes through him at the thought. He knows that’s part of it. Damn does he know it. This instinct to run, instead of dealing with his shit. He takes in a deep breath through his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call up Jimmy. Give him the heads up.” Sam looks up again, at the intensity of his gaze Gabriel is tempted to look away, but he holds steady instead. “Ok? I’ll make arrangements to come down tomorrow… after the exhibition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sighs, but after a beat he slowly nods his head, leaning forward to press a kiss into Gabriel’s hairline, before climbing to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pleasant scent of brewing cocoa fills his nostrils, calming his frayed nerves as he dials up Jimmy and gives him the low down. He keeps it vague. Deliberately so. Glad that Sam’s too far away to chastise him for it. Jimmy’s as much of a mother hen as Sam. If he knew half of it he’d be over here like a shot and… Damn it, it’s past midnight. He’s well and truly worn out. Later. He’ll deal with it later. He calls off and lets his mind drift. For now he just wants to shut the world out, to revel in the small comforts, to hold off all the damn trauma for a little while longer. To just feel safe. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sooooo ah that happened... We are not quite there yet... I'm going to update the chapter total. So yeah still a fair bit to go! That's including 2 fairly short epilogues. It's not all doom and gloom. There is in fact a little more smut for you. I think I'm way too impatient to post these slowly so I'm taking the opportunity to save chapters to draft where I can etc. Basically the gap between chapters shouldn't be long</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So here's another chapter I guess... Bit of exposition hoo-ha.</p><p>Little bit of a more detailed explanation in the end notes x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>DEAN</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>For once Charlie doesn’t make some smart assed comment or nerdy pop culture reference or any of that crap. She merely nods her head a fraction and swings the laptop round to face him. He leans forward and carefully scans over all of the evidence on her screen, Bobby there beside him doing exactly the same thing. It tracks. Part of him wishes it didn’t, but it does. After Luke’s discovery and Becky’s revelation, it wasn’t too difficult to trawl through everything they’d collected and piece it all together.</p><p>“Son of a bitch.” Dean pushes away from the table and takes a pace or two before stopping in his tracks. He shakes his head. He knows it’s not yet hit noon, but he really can’t deal with shit this fucked up stone cold sober. “I need a frickin beer.”</p><p>As he walks over to the kitchen, he idly listens to the conversation that springs up behind him.</p><p>“Shouldn’t it be bitch of a…” Chuck trails off. Dean expects Jo to interject with some bullcrap about not calling women bitches, but clearly the shoe fits well enough.</p><p>Someone makes some comment about it only being 11 o’clock. He’s pretty sure that’s Kevin. Dean pointedly ignores the dig, as he opens the refrigerator and reaches inside.</p><p>“But who would do that?” </p><p>Natalie. No one answers her. No one can. It registers with him again just how damned young most of them are. They haven’t seen the shit Dean has. He’s willing to bet that Luke gets it a little more, but he doesn’t say a word either.</p><p>“But… is it enough?”</p><p>Becky. Dean cracks open the beer, takes a long drag before setting it down and leaning on the counter. Fuck, he doesn’t want to answer that question, he really doesn’t. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, Bobby beats him to it.</p><p>“Hell I’d say we’ve got enough ammo to sink a damned battleship.”  </p><p>Dean’s eyes travel over to Bobby as several of the gathered group thank Charlie for her efforts, as Luke whines that it was his discovery, as Natalie pipes up with the group effort sentiment. They exchange a look. </p><p>“For her.” A hushed silence falls over them. Dean can see a few figure it out before the words are uttered, each of their expressions falling. “But we can’t pin a damned thing on him.”</p><p>He drops his gaze. He can’t take the crushing disappointment on these kids' faces, can’t see the dejection and hopelessness any more. He gets it. He’s been there. More times than he can count. He tries to tell himself that it’s enough. But he knows that’s a bitter lie. It’s not nearly enough. Gabriel deserves better. Cas does too. He can’t have risked everything for this. He grabs the bottle and downs half of it in one long drag. No. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. The job’s simply not done.</p><p>“You ok kid?”</p><p>Dean looks up into Bobby’s worried face. With a sigh he motions him over to the refrigerator, a little away from the others. He reaches in and grabs another cold bottle, opens it and hands it over. He knows he’s delaying the inevitable. Bobby accepts the bottle gratefully enough, but Dean knows by the look on his face that he gets the fact that Dean’s just stalling. He huffs out a long breath.</p><p>“It’s not enough.”</p><p>“I was afraid you were gonna say that.” Bobby takes a drag of his own bottle before looking back to Dean. “What do you have in mind?”</p><p>Dean can’t help the small smile that spreads across his features at that. Bobby rolls his eyes. </p><p>“Kid I said I had your back, didn’t I? Ain't gonna ditch you at the first hurdle.”</p><p>Dean doesn’t know what the fuck to say to that. He hopes to hell that Bobby can see it in his eyes. Hopes that he can see even a small part of the gratitude he feels.</p><p>“We go into the dragon’s lair.”</p><p>“Balls.” Bobby takes another long gulp of his beer. “I was afraid you were gonna say that too.”</p><p>Dean opens his mouth, hoping to give Bobby an out, but at the look on the man’s face he closes it with a snap, a small smile curving one corner of his lips upwards.</p><p>“Didn’t say I wasn’t on board? Who else you want in on this?”</p><p>Dean purses his lips. This will be a hell of a lot riskier. The fewer people involved the better. If he thought he could get away with it he’d go it alone, but he knows that the risk of coming away empty handed is just too great. </p><p>“Just you, me and… Charlie.”</p><p>Bobby nods his head in agreement and they settle back to drink their beers in silence as the background chatter of the others washes over them. He fucking hates that the one person he really needs in this is his brother’s best friend, besides Gabriel. If it all goes sideways, then it’s likely that it won’t just be Cas that never talks to him again. But he can’t just leave things as they are. He can’t just give up now. Not when they’re so damn close.</p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam chews on his lower lip as he stares down at his cellphone. What the hell’s up with Dean? That’s the fourth time he’s been sent through to voicemail. He’d leave another message, but what’s the point? It’s not like his brother’s been answering those properly either. Not beyond the occasional half hearted one or two word reply. Dean’s been acting weird for days now and Sam just can’t get a handle on why. </p><p>At first he thought that it was something to do with his brother’s aversion to hospitals. But it hardly makes sense that it would suddenly become an issue now. Dean’s been here plenty enough. If it was really a problem, then surely it would have figured before now. His next thought was Gabriel. His brother and lover haven’t always gotten along, true. But since Dean moved out, their relationship hasn’t been nearly as strained. Sure they still throw insults at each other, but there’s a weird affection to it. It’s his brother’s way. Gabriel’s too. And beyond that it’s been abundantly clear this last week just how much none of that past antagonism matters at all. In Dean’s eyes Gabriel’s family now. Sam’s not been too far gone to see just how much his brother cares. </p><p>Sam frowns. So maybe it’s him. Maybe that’s what, or rather <em>who</em>, Dean’s been avoiding. Not that that makes a hell of a lot of sense either. In the past, the only times his brother has avoided him have been when they had a major falling out or… or when Dean’s trying to hide something. Now that… that makes more sense. The question is, what?</p><p>Sam pockets his phone and peers into the room. Cas is sitting by Gabriel’s side, reading silently from an enormous tome. Sam can’t quite see the details from here, but it appears to be written in some sort of ancient, symbol based language. Gabriel’s asleep for now, hair a halo of curls about his slumped head. He’s worn out. It’s not yet gone noon and he’s already been subjected to a battery of tests, had his catheter changed (which made Sam wince in sympathy) and ‘suffered’ through a sponge bath (which he tried to insist Sam give him, then made sure to register his extreme annoyance all the way through when the nurse on duty said it wasn’t possible). Sam’s pretty sure he knows who suffered that one more. He sighs and shakes his head, a small smile surfacing on his lips. Dean wasn’t wrong about that one. Gabriel may not be up and about exactly, and he’s rarely coherent, but he’s certainly already managing to annoy the hell out of all the staff. Sam’s lost count of the number of times he or Cas have had to apologize for his behavior.</p><p>But Gabriel won’t be much trouble for now. He’s out cold and likely to be for a few hours longer. Besides, Cas is here. Sam’s not needed. Not for now. Set in his decision, Sam wanders into the room, giving Cas a small smile before bending over to press a soft kiss to Gabriel’s temple. He stays there for a time, just breathing in the scent of his lover. He still doesn’t smell quite like himself, but it’s there, under all the harsh chemicals. He should probably feel a little embarrassed about doing this in front of Cas, but somehow the little things like that don’t bother him anymore. He takes one more deep breath before pulling back, smoothing an errant curl that immediately springs back. It takes a little longer than he intended to drag his attention away. Part of him doesn’t want to leave Gabriel. But he can’t just ignore what’s happening with Dean. He won’t be away for long. </p><p>“Hey Cas, do you mind if I take off for a couple of hours?”</p><p>“Of course Sam, take all the time you need. I shall be here.” </p><p>Cas looks up at him with that earnest expression on his face. It only serves to make Sam feel shittier. It seems wrong to not tell Cas what’s up, but doing so would hardly be fair to his brother and it could cause issues in their relationship. It’s really not Sam’s place. If it turns out that Dean is doing something he shouldn’t, then Sam can call him out on it and strongly suggest that Dean talks to Cas himself. Maybe give him a not so subtle shove in the right direction if necessary.</p><p>Taking one last glance at Gabriel’s peaceful form, Sam takes his leave. The sooner he sorts this out, the sooner he can get back to Gabriel’s side. </p><p>~~~</p><p>“It’s not your fault Sammy.”</p><p>Sam lets out a long breath. “I know.”</p><p>And he does. But… Damn. Sam stares down at the grainy photograph in his hand. He doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting… Well maybe he was expecting to have his work cut out, trying to drag it out of Dean in the first place. But after he passed several of Gabriel’s friends in the hallway. After the flustered, muttered, half excuses that Chuck gave. After he opened the door with his spare key to find a startled Charlie right there in front of him. Dean didn’t even try to hide any of it. He just slumped down onto the sofa, face in his hands and relayed the whole sorry tale. </p><p>Beyond that… It’s a lot to take in. He doesn’t even know where to begin. The answers aren’t here. He sets the printed page down.</p><p>“Sammy…”</p><p>“I know Dean, I do… but if I hadn’t-”</p><p>“Don’t go there man. If you hadn’t taken the place then you can sure as shit guess who would have manipulated their way to the top of that pile. He would have won. <em> They </em> would have won.”</p><p>He knows his brother’s right, but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. Sighing, he drags the laptop towards him. Charlie agreed to let him borrow it, on the proviso that he guard it with his life, she and Bobby taking their leave soon after he arrived. Neither of them looked especially keen to stick around to watch the brothers hash it out. But anger never came into it. Sure he wishes his brother told him, that he didn’t take on this burden in the first place, but at the same time he gets it. He should have known. If he wasn’t so wrapped up in his own sorrow he would have. Dean couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. It’s just not in his nature.</p><p>What’s done is done. Dean and the others uncovered something that he’s sure none of them were fully prepared for. It’s all right here. Naomi tried to cover it under layers of encryption, but clearly not well enough. Sam reads over it all again, brow furrowing as he reaches the end.</p><p>“Does he even know?”</p><p>Dean looks at him like he grew a second head. </p><p>“Of course he does. Why the hell else would she-”</p><p>“That’s not what I mean,” Sam interrupts. Dean spares him a quick bitch face before holding up a hand for him to continue. “I mean, it’s pretty clear she knew who Lisa was. But… Doesn’t it seem a little convoluted to you? Why didn’t she just go straight for…” Sam frowns. He picks up the file next to him. “Why didn’t she go straight for Kaia?” </p><p>He grimaces down at the passport photo at the top of the file. She should have been the one starting her graduate studies this fall. Not him. At least it seems that Ellen wasn’t placating him. There’s a note at the end of Kaia’s file explaining her situation and confirming her part time place at a local college so that she can continue her studies while taking care of Lisa and her nephew Ben. Dean gives him a look, like he can see right through him, but mercifully doesn’t pass comment.</p><p>“Who the hell knows? The point is that it worked didn’t it? Or it would have if…” Dean trails off and grimaces. </p><p>It may well have if Ellen hadn’t suggested that Sam make a late application. Sam’s sure that Zachariah wasn’t the best applicant, and he’s also sure that further manipulations would have occurred. But none of these speculations confirm that Zachariah had anything to do with it.</p><p>“This is going to sound weird, but hear me out. What if he didn’t know?” Dean makes a face, but he doesn’t interject. “What if she thought this whole thing out and implemented it by herself?”</p><p>“Then you still have the same problem. Why go to the trouble of having some asshole for hire screw up her sister’s life, just to get Kaia out of the picture?”</p><p>“Exactly.” Sam would burst out laughing at the way his brother’s face screws up at that, if it wasn’t all too fucking disturbing for any of that. “Because maybe she didn’t want him to know. It can’t have been easy when Gabriel did what he did. When her husband’s name was dragged through the dirt. Maybe this is her way of setting things right. Of clearing his path towards the status she believes him to deserve, or that won’t show her up, without any of the heat potentially falling on him. I mean, who the hell would believe that anyone would go to such lengths?”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean he didn’t know.”</p><p>Sam purses his lips together. “No. But the point is… maybe there’s nothing to find.”</p><p>Dean doesn’t respond right away. He takes a few paces before stopping abruptly, and standing there with his hands clenched into fists at his side. “Don’t mean I don’t try,” he eventually grits out.</p><p>“Dean…”</p><p>“No Sammy. The hell with it. I’m not going to sit by and watch that son of a bitch walk away from this. He came this close, Sammy.” Dean holds one shaking hand up, thumb and forefinger scarcely an inch apart. “This close to… If Gabriel hadn’t…” Dean trails off, hand dropping to his side. He looks quickly away but not before Sam sees the wetness there, a single tear spilling over before his brother can scrub it roughly away. </p><p>He swallows and looks away too. He can’t bear to see the agony in his ever stoic brother’s eyes. It’s far too much.</p><p>“I know,” he says softly. “I just don’t want you to risk… to risk everything for nothing.”</p><p>Dean takes in a shaking breath and scrubs a hand over his face again before walking over to where Sam’s perched at the counter. “Not for nothing Sammy. I’ll find something. Maybe he didn’t know about all this shit.” He gestures at the screen. “But you can bet the son of a bitch knew about that fucking psychopath. You really think the kid woke up one day and decided to go on a murdering rampage for the hell of it? Something set him off.”</p><p>Sam purses his lips, thinking it through. Don Roman hasn’t said a thing, not since Sam screwed up and went charging into the station with revenge on his mind. But a few things have come to light. Charlie and Natalie confirmed that Roman was involved with the Christian group that had suddenly become problematic for them. That Zachariah took over that group not long after Christmas. A few members left at that point, one of which apparently became involved with the LGBT group, stating that she wasn’t happy with the message Zachariah was spreading. Then there was the night before the exhibition. Gabriel was frustratingly vague about the details, but Charlie and Natalie confirmed that also. They had intended to file a report after the exhibition, but instead found a Deputy at the scene who took their statements after recognizing the attacker.  It was Roman who caused problems for Natalie, Roman who came back for Gabriel afterwards. Who… Sam bites back the anger that threatens to take hold. He needs to think about this logically… </p><p>Factoring in Chuck’s story about Gabriel’s guitar, it would seem that the two have been butting heads for a lot longer than anyone realized. It’s possible that it was all him. That he finally snapped. But the connection to Zachariah is too much of a coincidence to ignore. Maybe Zachariah saw something there, some antagonism that was already present and decided to use it, decided to twist it to his own means. After all, if it really was about some unfettered hatred that Roman held for Gabriel, then why wasn’t he the target? Gabriel merely got in the way. Sam was the one Roman intended to take down. On Zachariah’s orders? Sam feels a chill travel down his spine. Would he have really gone that far? Or did Roman just assume that was what he wanted?</p><p>Sam rubs a hand over his face. Dean’s looking expectantly at him, but his jaw’s set with determination. Sam lets out a breath.</p><p>“Ok… Ok you’re right…”</p><p>Dean’s expression changes, he shakes his head before Sam can say another word. “I know what you’re thinking Sammy and the answer’s no.”</p><p>Sam opens his mouth again, but Dean cuts him off.</p><p>“No way in hell Sammy. I’m not risking you. Besides, you should be with Gabriel.”</p><p>That… that was a low blow. Sam resists the urge to chew his brother out for it, he knows it was said out of misplaced concern. The last thing Sam wants to do is spend more time away from Gabriel, but he equally won’t let his brother face this alone. </p><p>“Don’t you think that’s my decision to make?” </p><p>Dean grimaces, but he looks away, a look of guilt passing over his features. He knows his brother’s thinking not just about Sam, but about Cas as well. But there’s little point in bringing that up again. They’ve already argued about it and Dean refused to budge. It’s a mistake. Sam’s sure that a part of Dean knows that, but his fear for his partner overrides it. His determination to do the right thing has given him blinkers about the whole thing. Sam huffs out a breath. </p><p>“I’m coming and that’s final.”</p><p>Sam expects Dean to argue further, but instead his shoulders slump and he lets out a sigh of his own.</p><p>“I’m not gonna be able to talk you out of this am I?”</p><p>Sam raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.</p><p>“God dammit Sammy, do you always have to be such a stubborn bitch?”</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh and dips his head, before looking back up at his brother’s half smile. “Do you always have to be such a gigantic, self sacrificing jerk?”</p><p>Dean doesn’t say a word to that, he just lets out a laugh of his own, flips Sam the bird and heads over to the refrigerator to pull out a couple of beers. </p><p>Sam shakes his head and smiles, picking up his phone to call Cas. Looks like he’s going to be away a lot longer than intended.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So yeah Naomi is one cold assed biatch. </p><p>I was going to make Lisa's sister an OC, but somehow Kaia just felt right. They're half siblings and are very close. Kaia's a little older than on the show of course having completed her degree. Exceptions were obviously made about her last exams and the exhibition.</p><p>EDIT: A little more on Kaia and Lisa here as I wasn't finding a good way to fit enough detail into the narrative. I've added some later, but to save further confusion... Kaia is the student previously mentioned as having transferred due to personal circumstances. Those circumstances were her sister's "accident". Kaia requested a transfer and special consideration on her remaining course work (so she could graduate on the strength of her outstanding portfolio) so that she could go help her sister recover and adjust and look after her Nephew Ben. It can be assumed that there aren't any family that could have done this instead. Luke's discovery of the article, led them on a trail to uncover Naomi's less than savory contacts and certain transactions which took place.</p><p>Hope that helps. Sorry I wasn't clearer. Writing a plot this complex is a very new thing to me and my mystery writing leaves a lot to be desired! I will make later chapter's a bit more transparent when mentioning this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The calm before the storm so to speak</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>THE MORNING OF THE EXHIBITION</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something shifts behind him. Gabriel stiffens, curling in on himself on instinct. It takes a moment for his mind to catch up to the reality around him. He’s not lying on the cold hard ground in a pool of his own blood. He’s not one cold hard second away from being pummeled into a man shaped hunk of burger pâte. There’s no danger here. No flying fists… no flash of metal glinting in the moonlight. Just Sam. Safe… he’s safe. He’s home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs in contentment as Sam shuffles up behind him, letting the tension uncoil from his body as Sam curls his long frame around him, wraps his arms about Gabriel’s middle and tangles their legs together. Safe. Home. God. A pointy nose nuzzles in the hair at the nape of his neck. He may have just let out a whimper at that. Just a small one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby, are you… are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel shivers. Whether at the term of endearment or the warm breath ghosting over his sensitive skin, he hasn’t a clue. He pauses, takes a moment to think it through. It’s a loaded question. Is he? He’s not sure he has a clue about that either. His body feels all stiff and achy and bruised. Sure, that’s a given. But more than that… Last night was… He doesn’t like to admit it, even to himself. But it was fucking terrifying. He’s had a pretty crazy life, been in some royally fucked up situations. But that… that really took the biscuit… Cake? Whatever. Point is, part of him, a very large part, was pretty convinced his time was up. That he’d really taken things too far. His mouth has gotten him into trouble in the past… A hell of a lot of trouble. But never has it felt so final. Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s never felt like he had so much to lose before. He’s never exactly felt like he wanted to quit on life before. Even through his darkest hours. That’s never been part of his story. But now, right now, it’s never felt like he had so much to live for...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gabe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shudders, Sam’s breath causing goose bumps to rise all over his skin. Fuck that feels good. Just that. Hot damn. Just the small things, making him feel so damn alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’kay Hotsauce. Just ticklish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure Sam’s exactly convinced. His arms tighten briefly about Gabriel’s middle, almost hard enough to hurt… actually it kind of crushes his bruised ribs a little. But somehow the pain matters little. Somehow being crushed in a giant bear hug of epic proportions makes him feel all the more alive too. When Sam relaxes his grasp Gabriel scoots his ass back a little more, pressing as much of his skin against Sam as possible. He needs this. Needs to feel Sam all over him. Fuck he needs to feel Sam in him. Surrounding him. Taking him apart. Taking him to new heights. He must have made one of those whining sounds again, because Sam snorts out a delicious laugh, ruffling his hair, sending those shivers up and down his spine once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a hint?” Sam laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-maybe…” Gabriel hisses in a breath as Sam’s hand cups the right side of his chest, fingers starting to play gently with his nipple. He pushes his torso into the touch and his ass back further into Sam’s groin, moaning at the hard length he finds there. “Ok yes… fuck… holy shit yes. That hint enough for ya? Or do I need to hire a light aircraft to fly overhead with a giant banner reading ‘Fuck my sweet tush already Sam.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam laughs again and shakes his head, nose nuzzling into Gabriel’s hair in the process. Gabriel tries his very best not to lose his shit at this, just this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you… are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead he grabs hold of Sam’s nipple fondling hand. He thinks of placing it on his dick. But no. He doesn’t just want that. He needs… He shuffles forward a fraction and jams Sam’s hand forcefully between their bodies somewhere in the vicinity of his ass crack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, ok, I get the picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel makes a loud noise of complaint as Sam draws back, but sighs in relief again when he hears the unmistakable sound of a bottle of lube cracking open. Right. Of course. One slick finger is pressing at his entrance a moment later, hot breath against his neck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He pushes back on the digit until it slides all the way in. It’s a small pleasure, not nearly enough, but right now it feels like ecstasy. It feels like everything. They may not have a whole lot of time, but he doesn’t want to rush it all of a sudden. He doesn’t want to race to the finish line. He wants to feel every part of it in exquisite high definition. Treasure every single caress as Sam works him open. Slowly, carefully. So fucking good, so fucking perfect. He closes his eyes and just gives in to the sensations, lost in Sam’s ministrations, lost in the pleasure sparking deep inside him as Sam massages his sweet spot, sending him ever higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure how long he’s held there, but when Sam finally withdraws, he feels far too empty. He whines long and probably quite painfully loudly, pushing his hips back in search of that perfect bliss. One large hand on his hip a moment later grounds him. He stills his motions, bites his tongue and then there it is, the blunt head of Sam’s cock at his entrance. He feels the muscle quivering in anticipation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now. Please. Fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>For once Sam doesn’t make him wait, doesn’t call on him to confirm his consent in as many languages as he can remember. He just pushes forward, slowly but steadily. There’s no need to wait for Gabriel’s body to adjust. They may not have done this all that frequently lately, but Sam prepped him thoroughly and carefully. His body is open and willing and oh so ready to be filled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He draws in a deep breath as Sam bottoms out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God. Fuck. It’s so… shit so good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sam holds him there for one long drawn out moment, hand reaching around, cupping his chest once more. Not fondling, just placed right there. Perfect. Surrounding him. Inside and out. Full to bursting. In his ass and in his heart. And then Sam’s moving and somehow it’s even more. He relishes every harsh breath against his skin, every grunt of pleasure from Sam’s lips, the friction inside him, sparks of pleasure as Sam hits that sweet spot again and again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pressure’s building, rising to a crescendo. He can’t hold back much longer. Sam’s hand leaves his skin. But only long enough for long fingers to wrap around his length. It’s too much. It’s too perfect. One stroke is all it takes, Gabriel’s name falling from Sam’s lips at the very same time. He’s coming apart, pleasure coursing through him, pulsing messily over his chest and the sheets before him as his muscles contract about Sam’s length. He cries himself hoarse as he rides the most exquisite high, Sam following him an instant later, calling out his name once more as warmth spreads deep inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t draw back. Not yet. He holds Gabriel close, holds him through the aftershocks and well beyond, hand held right there, right over his thundering heartbeat. Gabriel doesn’t think much. His brains feel like they just shot out of his dick with all that explosive come. But he feels it. He’s never felt so safe. Never felt so at home. Never felt so blissfully alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam wipes the condensation from the mirror and stares at his distorted reflection. Is he really going to do this? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Should</span>
  </em>
  <span> he? What happened last night… He doesn’t know exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened. Gabriel was frustratingly vague, refused to speak any more on the matter. Kept on repeating the same words again and again: </span>
  <em>
    <span>later, after</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He gets it. Gabriel doesn’t want to distract him from the exhibition. That somehow makes it worse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This morning it was all too easy to forget for a time. To hold Gabriel tightly in his arms, to lose himself in Gabriel’s body. To get tangled up in each other so thoroughly that nothing else mattered at all. But when Sam finally let go, when Gabriel rolled out of bed and the sheets fell away… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam grips the edge of the sink hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He needs to get a hold of himself. Much as Sam wants to say, screw the exhibition, much as the sight of those dark bruises marring his lover’s skin, make him want to drag Gabriel down to the station right the hell now… it’s not his decision to make. It’s Gabriel’s. He made his wishes abundantly clear last night. It’s what he does. He once told Sam that he was an asshole, a selfish asshole. More than once. But nothing could be further from the truth. He may be pushy and needy and demanding. But when it really matters, when </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> matters to Gabriel, he always puts that person first. Above and beyond his own wishes and needs. It’s so ingrained that he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it half the time. And Sam can’t exactly throw that back in his face. That gesture. That care. That love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn it. He draws in a deep breath, runs the tap and throws cold water over his face. After. Let Gabriel take care of Sam now. Then make damned sure to take care of Gabriel after. They can get through this. All of this together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs his towel and pats his face dry, roughly drying his hair as he pads back through to their room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite everything, he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his features at the sight of his boyfriend, sprawled across the fresh sheets, which are already starting to look more than a little mussed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were getting up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel rolls his eyes. “I was up. Got up, washed, changed the sheets - you’re welcome by the way – all while you were busy primping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smiles, discarding the used towel before heading over to the dresser to grab some sweat pants and a tee. He’ll change into something neater after breakfast. There’s no point in risking getting chocolate smears on his best shirt if Gabriel decides to thank him a little too enthusiastically for the pancakes he’s planning on making. He pulls the tee over his head before turning back to Gabriel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you decided to, what? Christen the new sheets?” He nods his head at the rumpled and damp fabric under Gabriel’s sprawled form. “You know if you lie there any longer with wet hair, your curls are going to dry wonky again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam can’t help the laugh that escapes him at Gabriel’s scandalized face. His lover does relent however and rise up on his elbows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are most definitely not just a pretty face my Samilicious, you are also a font of spectacular ideas.” Mischief sparks brightly in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side, cants his hips and spreads his legs wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam flushes at the sight of his pink and slightly puffy hole. Tempting. God, so tempting. But as much as he wants to, they can’t exactly turn up at the exhibition smelling like sex and looking as rumpled as the bed sheets. They don’t have time to wash up again and grab breakfast too. And he’s pretty sure that those are their last clean, or at least relatively clean, bed sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dips his head and looks away before he can change his mind, pulling on his sweatpants and trying to ignore his hardening cock, that’s already starting to tent the fabric in front. “Ah, rain check?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel huffs out a breath, but he rolls off the bed and pads through the doorway, stopping and swinging back around to lean against the frame with his arms crossed over his naked chest. Sam absolutely doesn’t miss the way his heavy cock swings like a pendulum or the way Gabriel’s eyes travel down Sam’s body to stare at Sam’s rapidly filling length, that’s now blatantly obvious against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s when it hits him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s been so busy worrying about everyone else’s reaction to his work, that he completely failed to recognize the major flaw in his plans. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> reactions to his work. His highly fucking inappropriate bodily reactions. Gabriel’s going to be by his side the whole time. It’s reassuring most definitely, but it’s also highly problematic. Because Gabriel’s going to be sat right there beside him, giant wings stretched out behind him, wearing nothing but Sam’s brushstrokes across his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sam glances up again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How the hell is he going to get through this? Gabriel shakes his head, perhaps to clear it, and takes one last long look at Sam’s crotch before padding out of the room, any words that he intended to utter clearly forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam rubs a hand over his face and swears quietly into the empty room. How the hell could he have missed that? How the hell could the thought not even occur to him? He’s screwed. He’s so, so screwed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel stares down at his hard cock. Pointing to the skies. Ready for action. That won’t do. Won’t do at all. He glares at it. Nope not helping. Of all the… Honestly he really didn’t think this would be an issue. Not after everything that happened last night. Not with all the damned aches and pains. Not when he feels like he’s approaching 50 instead of steadily creeping towards the big 4-0. But his dick apparently hasn’t gotten the memo. First bit of good hard action it’s seen in a solid few days and it thinks it’s Christmas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel sighs and flops back on the bed sheets. The last time he had this sort of predicament, the answer was obvious. Hideously uncomfortable, but obvious. Unfortunately, this time he’s going to be buck naked. And a goddamn cock cage would most definitely push Sam’s work in all sorts of kinky directions. He looks down the length of his body at his wild pubic hair. It may have grown back completely since the unfortunate scotch tape incident just before Christmas and he may have made an executive decision to prioritize Sam’s obvious pube kink over any potential raised eyebrows his out of control body hair might garner… But no matter how mountain man-esque he looks down there, there’s no way in hell that he can hide a goddamn cock cage. Not even a clear plastic one. If he was smaller… maybe he could get away with it in a pinch. But he’s far from small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holy cats. Why didn’t he think of this before? He’s going to be sat next to Sam the whole damn time. Wearing nothing but a pair of giant wings sprouting from his… Nope can’t think about the wings. Can’t think about them without thinking about the last time he wore a pair. Sam bending him over a table at the Roadhouse and fucking into him hard and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh for fuck’s sake. That’s not helping. Not helping at all. He closes his eyes tightly. It’s a blessing. Maybe. At least he discovered the issue now and not in front of a multitude of prying eyes. Gabriel’s been at these exhibitions before. He tries to attend every year to support the graduating students. They get busy. Helluva lot busier than the life drawing exhibition just before Christmas. Because it’s the whole year group this time, not just those under Ellen’s tutelage. Not to mention all the V.I.Ps. And rumor has it they’re going to have a coupla Ps with a heavy emphasis on the V.I.’s along for the ride. Apparently they were there last time too, though with all the shenanigans that occurred that day, Gabriel and Sam were a little too preoccupied to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Point is, lots of eyes will be turned his way. Not a problem per se. It would surprise some to learn just how many peeps are involved in a porn shoot. But well… bodily reactions aren’t exactly an issue, in fact they’re rather encouraged. This exhibition however is a whole other ball game. Or rather cock and ball game. He snorts out a laugh. Yeesh. He needs to get his act together. They have to leave soon and he can’t exactly walk on over to the art building like this. Naked and with an enormous hard on. He considers wanking it out for a moment. But that could be rather messy. Even if he uses a condom, he’s likely to get all sweaty again. And besides, time marches swiftly onwards. He draws in a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cleaning the restrooms after Lucy’s taken a particularly nasty dump.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He arches an eyebrow and peers down his body. Nope. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zachy’s face as he… actually just Zachy’s smarmy face.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ok that definitely did something- Unbidden another image surfaces in his mind, lips twisted upwards into a cold mocking smile. He clutches the bed sheets, heart suddenly in his throat. He closes his eyes tight, breathing slowly in and out. It takes some time to center himself. Fuck. Gingerly, he cracks an eye open. Well at least it did the trick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing heavily, he sits up and slides off the bed. He dresses hastily now, pulling on his dress pants and buttoning up his crisp new white shirt. The one he bought to replace the one that got utterly trashed that night at the club. He pads over to the mirror. He’s looking a little weary. A little worse for wear, but the worst is now thankfully hidden from view. The shirt sits nicely on him, maybe straining a touch over his belly, but it’s hardly noticeable. He turns round, regarding his rear over his shoulder. Not bad. Not bad at all. Clinging in all the right places. He may be due to be naked for almost the entirety of the exhibition, but at least this way he can leave in style. Hair’s a bit of a mess, but he threw a brush in the bag they’re taking with Sam’s supplies. He can sort it there. At least Sam warned him in time. It’s not all crushed at the back and sticking up at the sides like the last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes in a deep breath through his nose. He can do this. He can-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I think I’ve got everything. Are you ready to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel turns around to see Sam’s long frame at the doorway, practically blocking the whole damn thing. He draws in another breath through his nose, hoping that his cock is well and truly asleep. Because that is quite the image. He’s wearing flannel of course. But his very best flannel. Hair all long and flowing and perfect. Did he mention blocking the entire damn doorway? Mmmmghh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s if you’re done primping…” Sam trails off, dorky smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he flushes lightly, eyes travelling over Gabriel’s form, clearly liking what he’s seeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel would make a quip right now, he really would, but he’s pretty sure all that would come out is a mass of syllables or maybe a demand for Sam to strip him bare and fuck him up against the wall. Right the hell now. So instead he just nods his head and smiles a lopsided smile. It’s not supposed to be dirty though he’s pretty sure it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam flushes more deeply and dips his head. He walks into the room and presses a quick kiss to Gabriel’s lips before tangling their fingers together and starting to draw Gabriel towards the doorway. Part of Gabriel wants to call a halt, wants to shut the world away. Drag Sam back into the room and spend the day fucking instead of dealing with all the crap they’re heading straight into. But no. Screw it. After. After they’ll screw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now... now they have to stand.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*WARNINGS*: I'm really, really sorry about this... but brace yourselves...<br/>I don't want to spoil the narrative, but I appreciate warnings are important so I am putting some warnings in the end notes. Please be aware that they are very spoilerish...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>DEAN</p><p>Dean can’t help the slight smile that stretches over his lips as they check off another room and move on down the hallway. Damn this place is huge, but they’re making headway. They’re sure to come across something soon.</p><p>Sam looks back over his shoulder and throws him a bitchface that only serves to make his smile wider.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Dude, don’t tell me you’re actually enjoying this,” Sam huffs out.</p><p>Dean makes a face, but he can’t help the grin that soon resurfaces. Ok so maybe he is. So sue him. He missed this. Working together. It’s been too long since he worked a case, even longer since he had Sam by his side. They were a damn good team.</p><p>“Don’t pretend that you don’t miss it, at least a little.” </p><p>Sam spins around and waves the flashlight at him. “If you say ‘those were the days’ I’m throwing this at you.”</p><p>Dean snorts out a laugh. Sammy gives him his most potent bitchface, before spinning on his heel and carrying on his way with a long, put upon sigh. “You’re seeing things through rose tinted glasses again.”</p><p>Dean frowns. Maybe he is a little, but what they did was important. “Come on Sammy. Wide open roads. Saving people, hunting bad guys, the family business.”</p><p>Sam grumbles. He edges open a doorway, points the flashlight in, before shaking his head and closing it over again. “I remember it differently. I remember flea bitten motels. I remember getting my ass chewed out almost every day.”</p><p>Dean purses his lips. He remembers the shouting matches all too well too. Dad and Sam were always a little too alike to get along. Both stubborn as hell. Part of that was Sam always pushing back, but he also knows that Dad was always way harder on him than he was with Dean. Expected more of him, because he knew just how capable he was. It wasn’t fair. Still. Dean lets out a breath. </p><p>“That line of work didn’t always pay very much and you know much pro bono work dad took on…”</p><p>Sam sighs. “I guess.”</p><p>“He was wrong about you though.”</p><p>Sam looks around at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. Dean makes a face at him and motions for him to continue. They don’t have time to get lost in any chick flick moments. But Sam just stands there and stares at him.</p><p>“He should never have treated you that way. He was an asshole.” Dean looks away from the sheer emotion displayed on his brother’s face. He grumbles and moves past Sam, trusting that his brother will follow behind.</p><p>When he opens the next door his lips spread into a wide smile. <em> Finally </em>. He grins back at his brother, resolutely ignoring the watery look in his eyes. Sam’s eyebrows raise, then a matching smile spreads across his features as he takes in the room beyond. They spare one last look. It lasts far too long. Dean lets out an uncomfortable breath before striding into the room. Time to get this shit done.</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Gabriel glares at the empty chair. Maybe if he stares at it long enough the Sampirition will reappear. But nothing changes, no matter how hard he tries. It was there and now it’s gone… just like all the rest. He lets out a sob; it sounds more like a pathetic wheeze. </p><p>He should have known. Hells he did. He knew and yet he still held on. Held on as all the others faded and disappeared. No more demon eyed nurse, though her glare is bad enough. No more orderly with a long tongue that snapped out to catch flies. When he looks at the wall across from him it’s just a solid wall. No alternate dimension wavering on the other side. They all faded away as his mind began to clear. And yet he still held on. Because part of him just desperately wanted to believe, even if he knew right from the start. Knowing that he survived doesn’t help one damned bit.  Not without Sam.</p><p>Another sob wracks his body. It sounds even worse than the last. All squeaky and like a damned kettle whistling on the hob. Something about it makes him want to scream. He does. All the anger and pain and loss exploding out of him in a rush. The sound that escapes him does nothing to dampen any of it, it only fuels his fury. He tries again. The most wretched sound burning through his abused throat. He cares little. He knows that if he makes enough of a racket they’ll come. Swoop in with needles and pump him full of drugs. He welcomes it. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. Doesn’t want to face the truth. That Sam’s gone. Once and for all, he’s gone.</p><p>He opens his mouth to scream again, but halts as fearful blue eyes swim before his bleary vision.</p><p>“S-Sam,” he manages to stutter out, voice sounding dry and squeaky and nothing like his own. He tries to clear his throat, but it would seem that even coughing is beyond him.</p><p>Eyebrows draw together. His vision clears just enough to catch the earnest expression on his brother’s face. </p><p>“Sam has a few things he needs to attend to. He shall be back later tonight.”</p><p>Gabriel huffs out a small bitter laugh at that. He can’t help it, even if the motion makes him cough and splutter again. He draws in a ragged breath, barely any air passing through a throat that feels red raw. Maybe all that screaming wasn’t such a great idea. Cas gives him an odd look, head tilting to the side. Hells really? They really think he doesn’t know? That he can’t see through the official line? Like he doesn’t know they’ve all been hiding the truth from him, playing along with his delirious hallucinations, because none of them think he can handle the brutal reality of his existence. That Sam’s dead and it’s all his fault.</p><p>He doesn’t know whether to laugh again or scream. Instead he rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Sam’s… Sam’s dead.”</p><p>There. He’s said it. They can stop the pretense. Cassie’s eyes go huge. Great big blue dinner plates. Ol Demon eyes appears beside him, muttering and checking his IV. Good, hopefully they can give him the good stuff. Send him down into the blissful empty abyss. Where he can forget.</p><p>“Why would you… why would you think that? Sam is not dead.”</p><p>Gabriel turns his eyes back to Cas, giving him a good hard glare before rolling them heavenwards.</p><p>Suddenly hands are on his face. He tries to pull away, but he’s far too weak. Cassie forces him to look into that wide blue earnest gaze. </p><p>“Listen to me Gabriel. Sam is not dead.”</p><p>Gabriel opens his mouth to argue, but there’s something in those eyes… He gasps in a breath, something twisting horribly in his chest… Suddenly he sees another pair of eyes, swimming in front of his vision… </p><p>
  <em> Not blue, but hazel, a kaleidoscope of colors in those sunflower eyes. Pain. So much pain. But not… There are words. His name. Sam calling out his name. He looks up into those terrified eyes. So alive. The light doesn’t fade from them. It intensifies. He glances down. Red blossoms across the white cotton material of the shirt- His shirt. Not Sam’s. Then… He can't look at that. Can’t… He drags his eyes up, away, back to Sam. His Sam. Not dead, but whole and alive and oh God. Oh God... </em>
</p><p>He comes back to himself with a gasp. The air whistles through a throat that feels far too narrow. He tries to take another, shallower breath, but again his lungs barely inflate. Oh God… He can’t… he can’t breathe. He grasps hold of the closest thing to him. Tan material gives way, the sound of ripping fabric barely audible over the sound of alarms blaring in his ears. He wants to scream, but no sound escapes him. He can hear Cassie call out his name in anguish. No not now. <em> Please. </em> He doesn’t want to go. He grabs hold of Cassie’s coat, desperately tries to catch his eyes. He tries to get the words out, no matter how futile it is. Cassie gets it anyway.</p><p>There are hands on him, pulling him away. Something’s placed over his mouth. He tries to take another breath, but it’s no use. His eyes dart over to Cassie. A warm hand reaches out and squeezes his shoulder before he’s drawn away completely.</p><p>“Sam will be here when you wake… I promise…”</p><p>He tries to hold on, but he knows it’s useless. As his brother’s blue eyes pass from his sight he loses the battle completely, vision closing in on him. He doesn’t want to go. Not now. Not now that he knows Sam’s alive. </p><p>But he has no choice. As the darkness consumes him, he knows no more.</p><p>~~~</p><p>CASTIEL</p><p>Cas stares down at the device held in his shaking hands. He does not want to make this call. He doesn’t know how.</p><p>“We can contact someone for you, if you need us to.” Cas looks up. Gail gives him a look full of understanding. “We have Sam’s number on file. Gabriel listed him as an emergency contact.”</p><p>Cas shakes his head. “Thank you for the offer, but I believe it would be best coming from family.”</p><p>Gail nods her head. Her brow furrows, some of the emotion she’s trying to keep in check surfacing. “Castiel… I’m sorry. If there’s anything you need…”</p><p>Cas shakes his head again, but spares her a small smile. He supposes that she has been here plenty of times. Jericho is not such a large town. The Mayor’s wife has come into contact with the majority of its long term residents. In fact she makes it a point to welcome everyone. She has a kind heart and it is clear that she cares deeply even if she did not know Gabriel well.</p><p>“Thank you, but I am fine for the time being.”</p><p>She does not call him on the blatant lie, she knows better than to push the matter. Instead she makes sure he knows that he can call on her for anything before moving off down the hallway to check on her other patients.</p><p>He sighs, staring down at the blank screen. He does not want to make this call. Sam has not coped well with Gabriel’s injury. It was to be expected. It was abundantly clear from even the very start just how much love the man had for his brother. The thought of losing him has very nearly torn him apart. Castiel furrows his brow. How can he tell him that the man he loves so dearly may very well be lost to him? When he can barely fathom it himself. He wishes that Dean were here. He would take the matter in hand. Take care of his brother. Take care of Luke too. Take care of Cas. </p><p>He swallows around the lump in his throat. He cannot think of what it means for himself. Not yet. He doesn’t want to face the very real possibility that he might lose his brother. The one who truly took care of him, even though he was scarcely older than Cas himself. He cannot think this way. He must focus on the task at hand. </p><p>He thinks it best not to tell Sam of Gabriel’s last moments… before he lost consciousness. It would likely be too much to bear. None of them could have known that Gabriel thought his lover dead. The nurse explained that it was possible he could not tell his nightmares from reality, that perhaps he was suffering from some hallucinations also. It makes Cas’ heart ache when he thinks what his brother has been through. Caught in a perpetual nightmare that he could never truly waken from. Perhaps it would have been better if he had never awakened at all. He draws in a breath and shakes his head. It is unlikely the shock caused the complication. Gabriel was low risk, but it’s never cut and dry. Such complications arise, even though they are rare so long after extubation. Perhaps his luck merely ran out. The chances of surviving the attack were slim. Less than a fraction of an inch in any direction and Gabriel would have died within minutes. Perhaps that would have been easier still.</p><p>It is not hopeless, but he finds he has little hope. The chances of surviving reintubation are far from favorable. The chances of Gabriel ever waking again…</p><p>Castiel lets out a long sigh. His eyes sting, but he is too weary to cry. He is sure that the enormity of it has not yet sunken in. He wishes Dean were here. He wishes he did not have to make this call.</p><p>~~~</p><p>DEAN</p><p>Dean makes a face as he pokes around the stack of stored artwork. He knows dick all about art, admittedly so. Animals all cut up and stuck in boxes of formaldehyde, a banana duct taped to a fucking wall. A lot of contemporary art makes no sense to him. But even he can see how utterly outclassed this dude is by Sam. There’s no comparison. Dean may be biased, but he doesn’t think that’s all it is. He doesn’t even get all of his brother’s work. Like why he feels the need to paint his damn boyfriend in the throws of- Holy shit he does not want to think about that. If he thinks about it anymore he’ll start to get visuals. He didn’t even want to see the last painting, disturbed the fuck out of him, but at the same damn time he could see it, see the incredible talent that went into creating it. His brother’s a goddamn genius. Where as Zachariah? Dean’s eyes pass over the multitude of artworks plastered over the wall, each enclosed in an overly grand and pretentious gilt frame. Yeah, shit don’t shine any better no matter the window dressing. And this asshole really believes he deserves that place more than Sam? More than Kaia? His psychotic wife clearly did.</p><p>And that’s some fucked up shit that he can still barely get his head around. Hiring some asshole to fuck up Lisa’s life, just so that Kaia would request a transfer and Zachariah could take her place? The woman may never walk again, just because some mediocre dickhead has delusions of grandeur. Just so that he can nerd it out for a few years and pretend he’s fucking important. Sam might be right of course, but something in his gut tells him that the douchebag knew. Whether or not they can prove it though, that’s another matter entirely.</p><p>Sam makes a small exclamation over by the laptop. Dean hopes to hell it means what he thinks it means. In a way they already lucked out, big time. Naomi’s schedule revealed that they would both be out tonight at some prayer meeting, but Dean has no idea how long these things last. They need to find something. And soon. Or they risk leaving empty handed or worse, get caught out.</p><p>“Anything?” Dean asks as he circles around the neatly arranged storage shelves, lined with an array of expensive looking materials, back to his brother’s side.</p><p>Sam looks up briefly, before returning his attention to the screen. “Maybe.” He taps a few keys then brings up a page of what appears like random strings of obscure characters.</p><p>“What does that look like to you?”</p><p>Dean furrows his brow and leans a little closer. “Utter garbage. You need me to get Kevin in?”</p><p>The barest hint of a smile appears on his brother’s face. He opens the directory, taps on a file name and as Dean watches, he deletes then retypes the file extension. Dean laughs and shakes his head. Of course. </p><p>“Fucking amateur.”</p><p>Sam snorts out a laugh. “Yeah.” </p><p>They both watch with baited breath as the file opens in an imaging program this time. Dean shakes his head. Why the fuck would Zachariah have this… then he sees it. By the look on his brother’s face, he sees it as well. He types in a few commands, repeating the process for the rest of the files in the directory and pulls them up one by one. They both stop and stare as a familiar face looks back at them from the screen on the third to last file. </p><p>“That son of a bitch.”</p><p>Sam’s jaw clenches and unclenches before his eyes, but he doesn’t say a word, just stares at the file, at the supposedly fucking private student file of one of his closest friends. These aren’t just random files, though they come from all over the frickin college. Natalie’s from the computing department, a couple from economics who look familiar, the art department, math, law, science... But they all have something in common. </p><p>“Son of a bitch.” Dean knows that he sounds like a goddamn broken record, but <em> Jesus </em>.</p><p>These are targets. Fucking targets. All the LGBT students that the fucker could find. How the hell did he even get a hold of these? Jo had mentioned something about him being well connected. Clearly she wasn’t exaggerating. This is something. Definitely something, but…</p><p>“What can we get him for?”</p><p>Sam clenches his jaw again before letting out a heavy breath and shaking his head. His brother thought about studying law at a time, thought it would make dad happy, but in the end, when it was clear that nothing would make dad happy, nothing but following in his footsteps, taking on the family business, Sam abandoned the idea, following his true passion instead. </p><p>“Ah I’m not sure. It would be easier if he was still employed by the University. It’s likely that those who gave these to him would be in more hot water than him. I’m pretty sure they won’t let him graduate if this gets out but…” </p><p>It’s not enough. But if they can prove exactly how the asshole used this information… then maybe… By the look on his brother’s face, he’s thinking along the same lines. Sam pulls up the second to last file. Charlie. No surprise there. And then the last. Not a student file this time but a contracted staff one…They both stop to stare. He glances at his brother, expecting to see rage flare in his Sam’s eyes again, but instead the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. </p><p>Dean smiles too, deciding in an instant to go with it. “Dude that’s the most ridiculous mug shot I’ve ever seen.” Sam snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. Unable to help himself Dean adds, “Blue steel,” grinning at the unselfconsciously loud bark of laughter his brother lets out.</p><p>Sam shakes his head, takes one last smiling look at his boyfriend’s smoldering face and closes the file, dragging the whole directory to the thumb drive. </p><p>The comm clicks in his ear. Dean frowns. He’d almost forgotten it was there. Sam hadn’t been especially keen on the idea of bringing Charlie into this, but in the end he’d relented. Dean didn’t like to mention it, but his brother knows he’s a little rusty and that there’s no one who can do this shit faster and better than Charlie can. With Sam on board Bobby agreed to take a step back. On call if they needed anything. But Charlie’s been working since Sam brought up her backdoor program. Splitting the workload, delving a little deeper. He taps his comm, hoping against hope that Charlie’s found something they can use.</p><p><em> Hey Zoolander, Hansel. </em> Dean snorts out a laugh, Sam makes a face. <em> You bitches ready to be wowed. </em></p><p>Sam lets out a little laugh. “What have you found?”</p><p><em> I won’t bore you with the details of my genius, but suffice to say, I found a little thread and I pulled real hard </em>. </p><p>Sam raises his eyebrows. </p><p>
  <em> Not sure what I found yet, but he was clearly trying to erase it. But there’s deleted and then there’s wiped from the face of the digital verse where no canny hacker with the appropriate class and skill points can- </em>
</p><p>Charlie stops short. Dean reaches up to fiddle with the comm, thinking it's cut out, but then he hears the sharp intake of breath. Before he can ask, Charlie’s voice comes over the comm again.</p><p>
  <em> Sam I’m… shit I’m sorry about this… </em>
</p><p>Sam frowns as something appears on his screen. At first glance it looks like an email thread, though Dean can’t read the smaller text from here. But judging by the look on his brother’s face... Damn. He leans in, his blood running cold as he reads over the messages. Fuck. This is what they were looking for. The flaming fucking sword, but… Damn. He steps back, running his hands through his hair. Something catches his eye. The flicker of a light. Headlamps. Crap. They need to bail. Now.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Dean glances over at his brother, but finds he has to look swiftly away. His nerves are a little frayed. Heart rate only just returning to normal. It was a close call, but they got out in time. Instincts kicking in, allowing them to grab what they needed and haul ass out of there without a moment to lose. But now the adrenaline’s starting to fade, he can’t help the worry that’s replacing it.</p><p>“Did you know?” The words are out before he can stop them.</p><p> Sam doesn’t meet his eyes. Just looks down at his shaking hands. Dean frowns. Looks like Sam caught his jacket on something during their swift exit. The outer pocket’s a little torn. He hopes to hell that they didn’t leave any material behind. Not that it matters. The evidence is pretty damning. And if they can get the kid to testify, it’s likely they won’t need it at all.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Dean almost startles when his brother finally replies. He sounds close to tears. Shit. Dean makes a turning, heading out from the main part of the town. He’ll find a place they can park out. Talk this thing through. Maybe he left a beer or two in the trunk. They could sure as shit use it after all of this.</p><p>“Why didn’t he tell me?”</p><p>Dean purses his lips. He doesn’t know what the hell to say. He can’t know what was going through Gabriel’s head at the time, why he chose to neglect to reveal a few little details of what he was subjected to the night before the exhibition. Like how that psychopathic fuck threatened to cut his fucking eye out. God that is some twisted shit right there. But he can hazard a guess. Because faced with the same choice, thinking that something like that might mess up his brother’s chances- Damn it, he might have made the very same choice. As screwed up as it is. As monumentally stupid as it was in hindsight.<em> Fuck </em>. Dean finally finds the perfect spot and pulls over. They sit for a moment. The words don’t come. </p><p>“You want a beer? Think I might have some in the trunk.” </p><p>Dean wants to slam his head into the fucking steering wheel. Why is he so bad at this? Why can’t he find a goddamned thing to say when his brother’s hurting so much? Sam doesn’t say anything. Just wipes a shaking hand over his face before nodding his head.</p><p>They climb silently out of the car and Dean busies himself raking around in the trunk, finally coming up with a couple of bottles. All the while his mind is spinning. They have everything at least. There’s that. Zachariah knew. One of the kids that night, one of the assholes from the bar had second thoughts, tried to intervene. Probably would have gotten his ass kicked too if Sam hadn’t shown up, shouting out Gabriel’s name. He was clearly shaken by the experience, worried about what it meant. Thought to send a message to Zachariah to warn him that Don Roman was unstable, out of control. Thought he was doing the right thing. But what he got back was a threat. Blackmail. Shut up, take a back seat or you’ll find yourself in the same position. Sure Zachariah danced around the words, but the message was clear enough.</p><p>Damn. If Gabriel had said something… <em> Anything </em>… Dean shakes his head and grabs the bottle opener, opening the bottles with practiced ease. What’s done is done. No amount of navel gazing is going to change a damned thing. He circles around to where his brother’s standing, staring up into the dark skies above them. He hands over the bottle. Sam accepts it, taking a measured sip, only wincing slightly at the lukewarm liquid inside. Dean follows suit. It isn’t the best beer he’s ever tasted, granted, but it’ll do.</p><p>“It’s going to be ok Sammy.” Sam’s silent beside him, but he presses on anyway. “We’ve got them. They’re going to pay for all the shit they’ve done. Gabriel’s ok. Nothing else matters.”</p><p>Sam doesn’t look at him, but he slowly nods his head. Then his brows draw together and he slips his ringing phone from his pocket. Dean frowns too when he recognizes the god awful ringtone that Gabriel set up on his brother’s phone, Dean’s and no doubt his own. Some stupid shit about halos and angels and all that romantic crap. Fucking James Blunt. Gabriel said the song fit Dean and Cas perfectly. Dean changed the fucking thing as soon as he found out, but clearly Sam never bothered. Why’s Cas phoning him? Shit, does he know? Dean braces himself.</p><p>Sam barely says a word, he just listens. It’s dark out, barely a light in sight, but Dean doesn’t miss it, doesn’t miss the blood drain from his brother’s face. <em> No… No… that can’t… No </em> . The bottle slips from Sam’s fingers. He seems to barely notice as he falls to his knees in the puddle it makes, beer soaking into the fabric of his muddy jeans. Fear grips Dean tightly about his heart. <em> No… God no </em>.  He stares on in horror, unable to do a damn thing, as his brother comes apart completely. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*WARNINGS*: Gabriel suffers a major complication. He struggles to breathe and has to be reintubated (not a trachiotomy). He slips back into a coma.<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>Ugh yes I know, I am the most evil writer that ever evilled. I am so so sorry. Please be assured that this it NOT a death fic. And you can thank my research for this. I may have read about complications being fairly common and how patients can have sudden, unexpected setbacks which can be incredibly hard on relatives when the patient had seemed to be doing so well. And because I'm evil, I took it to the extreme. This particular complication is very rare that amount of time after extubation as far as I could tell from research, but I did find one case study. The circumstances were different so please excuse my lack of medical knowledge. I dipped as far as I could understand through the jargon. As you can see there aren't many chapters left and I promise to leave you in a happy place... It's just going super duper dark first. If anyone's actually talking to me by the end of this fic, I promise a silly fluff fest next... with only a smidge of angst... Ok more than a smidge, but definitely no where near this level. I will endeavor to update this as rapidly as possible while still giving time for thorough editing. Next update should be very soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Because that was fucking awful I'm giving you another chapter... and incidentally some smut...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>2 HRS BEFORE THE EXHIBITION</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel lets out a loud chuckle at the sight. Now that. That has to be his favorite so far. </span>
  <em>
    <span>ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND GABRIEL. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotsa angry underlining on the NOT. Black paint still wet and dripping. And the badly drawn illustration… Clearly someone gave this douche a heads up on Sam’s painting. Just enough time for the would be artiste to create his Masterpiece. Gabriel snorts out another laugh. Classic. A head whips around, eyes searching. Gabriel rises up further onto his tiptoes and waves. Laser eyes fix on his person. Hoo boy. That expression. He lets out a loud barking laugh and blows a quick kiss before his calf muscles can give way. The chanting starts up again. He kind of wishes Lucy were here to play some appropriate music. The thought of that sets him off again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lets out an exasperated sigh, but when Gabriel turns away from the tiny, high window to face him, his lips twitch upwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do realize you’ll only make them worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel draws his lips into an exaggerated frown before raising his bare shoulders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lets out a small laugh of his own and shakes his head. It’s a small victory, but it’s worth it. Sam’s been morose since they got here, looking more like he just turned up to a funeral, than the most exciting and important day of his life. Gabriel skips over, grabs hold of a fist full of flannel and pulls him roughly down into a dirty kiss. Sam yelps indignantly, then more laughs than kisses back. But again, small victories. The bitchface is out in full force when he pulls back, but there’s no heat in it, no heat at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn it Gabe, look what you did to my shirt!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah oops. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He hasn’t exactly torn any fabric or dispensed of any buttons, but Sam’s looking decidedly more disheveled now. Gabriel hisses in a breath, steps right up into Sam’s personal space and smooths the fabric with his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels a puff of air over his scalp. It sends shivers down his spine. He knows exactly what Sam’s doing. He smiles happily, wrapping his arms around Sam’s middle, just letting Sam breathe in the scent of him. He needs this. This reassurance. And Gabriel’s more than happy to give it. Sam clears his throat finally, looking a little sheepish as he steps back, cheeks gloriously flushed. But he looks a little calmer too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows, dips his head, the flush growing a little deeper. “Uh I think we better get started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s oh so tempted to throw out a line, to ask Sam exactly how he wants him, but part of him knows that going down that path won’t just distract Sam from his worries, but is likely to throw him way off his game. Truth be told, he can hardly afford to go down that road himself. Holding it together through this is going to be h- difficult enough. So instead he nods his head and pads over to the chair in the center of the little room, hopping up onto it. It’ll be fine. Absolutely fine. He shifts a little. Gets his ass comfy, shuffles his legs apart to give Sam access. Tilts his head back a little, catching sight of Sam rolling up his sleeves, revealing those gorgeous tanned forearms. Gabriel’s dick twitches. Ho boy. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Gabriel clamps his eyes shut and gives his dick a silent stern talking to. It’s quiescent for now. But they’ve hardly gotten to the h- difficult part. Gabriel draws in a deep breath. Stomach muscles tensing as he waits, waits in trepidation for Sam’s first brushstroke to land on his flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s lost in the motions; in the hypnotic movements of his brushstrokes. It’s calming, freeing. He knows he can’t stay here forever, but for now, just for now, he lets himself sink deeper. Awareness narrowed to the instrument in his hand, to the living breathing canvas in front of him. He’s almost done. He’ll have to surface soon. Leave this sanctuary behind and face it all... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath, long moments later, coming back to himself a little more. He has no idea how long it’s been since he last checked his watch, but the warning timer hasn’t sounded yet. They still have time. He steps back, running his eyes over his work. His breath catches in his throat. Gabriel’s trembling a little, but he’s incredibly kept it together a lot better than Sam thought he would be able to. There’s a little sweat on his brow and Sam could feel his muscles tense, particularly when he hit a sensitive spot. But somehow, miraculously he held still and mostly silent as Sam worked. His head is still tilted backwards, eyes closed, lips lightly parted. His beautiful face is uncovered, for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam bites his lip, considering the work. He came into this with no clear plan of what he wanted to do. Somehow it felt right just to let emotion guide him and it’s taken him in an interesting direction. The work is not unlike that which he created at the cabin, though the brushstrokes flow better, the colors less garish, but vibrant still. Instead of purchasing more of the edible body paints that Gabriel gave him for Christmas, he researched the medium thoroughly and sought out higher quality materials. They’re not edible, much to Gabriel’s disappointment, though Sam promised to buy more of those too… but the colors should hold up a little better, shouldn’t smudge or run with a little sweat and hopefully… hopefully shouldn’t turn his cock blue for a week. Sam flushes at the thought… the memory…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel cracks an eye open, one eyebrow raising, lips quirking upwards on one side. How the hell he knew Sam’s mind was going that way… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah just a minute Gabe, I’m just…” He waves a hand vaguely in the air. Gabriel smirks, but he closes his eyes again, not saying a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lets out a long breath, trying to focus his mind to the task, drawing his eyes away from Gabriel’s cock, which is uncovered also, and incredibly only half hard. The self discipline to keep it that way… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That he wasn’t expecting at all. Usually Gabriel’s on a hair trigger. But Sam guesses that years of working as a life model have actually paid off. Despite enduring Sam’s brushstrokes all over his naked body… well almost all over his naked body… He’s actually doing a hell of a lot better than Sam in that department. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He shakes his head to clear it. His eyes have drifted back there of their own accord. His body inevitably responding to the sight. Right. He’ll come back to that. Just the thought of it… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He drags his eyes away from Gabriel’s crotch forcibly, taking in the work as a whole. He needs to finish his assessment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The visual he’s created is reminiscent of that earlier work, but a little different in places. There are still swirling stars, a cosmos spread out over Gabriel’s flesh, but there are voids too. Deliberate voids. Sam closes his eyes a moment and takes a few calming breaths. It still hurts to look at them. His being still fills with rage, rage and an unfathomable sadness. It felt wrong to cover them. He’s not sure how Gabriel will take that, but Sam felt like there was something important to be said. To show not just the beauty of Gabriel, of the love they share, but to show the damage that others would seek to inflict upon them. The paint is raw and ragged at the edges of these voids. Sam’s sure that the anger can be seen in his brushstrokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He draws his eyes away from the deep purpling bruises marring the skin over Gabriel’s ribs, up to his chest. This is different also. He wasn’t sure it would translate from his head to Gabriel’s flesh, but the paints work well, even over the thin smattering of chest hair there. A vibrant light spreading out from the center of his chest, right over his heart. Sam could feel the vibrations as he painted, the steady beat of his lover’s heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sucks in another breath. It all works well, even better than he envisioned, but there are still a couple of areas to attend to. He steps closer. As he draws nearer, Gabriel cracks an eye open again, smiling faintly, eyes crinkling a little at the corners before his face goes lax again. Sam just stands there a moment. His heart swelling and aching at the same time as he looks down at Gabriel’s upturned face, at the sheer beauty of his lover’s features. He won’t do much here, to do so would only detract from… He snorts out a laugh as the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfection</span>
  </em>
  <span> surfaces in his mind, very much in Gabriel’s sing song voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An eyebrow dances up Gabriel’s high forehead, lips twitching upwards, little dimples appearing in his cheeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sam swallows at the flash of gold beneath fluttering eyelashes. Better do this quickly. Before he loses his shit completely. He gently takes hold of Gabriel’s chin, holding it steady as he begins to work. Gabriel’s features relax instantly, lips parting slightly. Better work </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> quickly, or he won’t be able to stop himself. Won’t be able to stop himself from drawing those beautiful lips into a deep kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There. It’s done. Well. His eyes draw downwards. It doesn’t exactly look complete. In leaving Gabriel’s groin completely uncovered, he’s merely drawing the eye directly to it. But… He takes a look at his wrist watch. It’s taken less time than he thought, but there’s hardly enough time to deal with any… reactions. How exactly are they…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re thinking too hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s face scrunches up in the most adorable way, clearly just picking up on the double entendre he just uttered. “Not…” He waves a hand in the air. “Too… ah fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Sam stutters, eyes inevitably drawn down to the matter at hand, just in time to see Gabriel’s cock twitch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel follows his gaze, one eyebrow raising up his forehead at the sight. He tilts his head to the side, regarding his semi for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah I think that’s only gonna get worse. Better have at it Van Gogh, your canvas… um awaits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christ it certainly does. Sam closes his eyes tightly, taking in a few deep breaths. He opens his eyes a moment later to see Gabriel’s gaze zero in on the crotch of his jeans, pupils visibly dilating. And… oh God. Did his cock twitch again? Fill a little more? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This is going to be harder than he thought.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Harder. Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He smacks a hand over his face as he feels his own cock fill all the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to… take care of that for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus Gabe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s not… that thought’s not helping at all. Part of him wants to say yes. It’s been made clear that they’re not to be disturbed, but fuck… they really can’t do that here. Besides, he already looks disheveled enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes in a few deep breaths trying to calm himself. “No… I’m… I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice that issues from his mouth registers several octaves higher than normal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God dammit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sam ignores the raised eyebrow he’s subjected to when he opens his eyes, gritting his teeth and settling down in front of Gabriel. He busies himself with his materials, making sure he has the correct colors. Deep breath. Ok. He ignores the sharp intake of breath, the way Gabriel’s stomach muscles tense as the brush dips low. The way his cock twitches and fills. Sam works quickly, covering the bare flesh as efficiently as he can. A little more of Gabriel’s pubic hair gets plastered to his skin then Sam intended, but it was kind of difficult to work around. As… as was his cock. Sam bites his lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s cock is now fully erect and curving beautifully towards his painted belly. Sam stops and stares for a moment, listening to Gabriel’s harsh breaths as he barely keeps it together. Stomach muscles still clenching, thigh muscles stiff. Even his toes are curling over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam blinks up at Gabriel’s flushed face. He looks needy and desperate and on edge. And Sam’s hardly in a better place. His jeans are almost unbearably tight. But they can’t… they really can’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel hisses in a breath through his teeth. “Hate to break it to you hotshot. But we can’t go out there like this...” Fuck of course Gabriel would read his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam straightens up, running his hands back through his hair, trying not to look at Gabriel’s upturned face. Christ he’s right. They need to go out there soon, far too soon and there’s no way in hell that he’ll get his wayward body back under control in time. No way either of them will. And even if they did, with Gabriel sitting right there next to him like this… with the wings… Not to mention that there’s still one rather large, rather obvious unintended void in his work. He lets out a long groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a… yay? Or are we going De Wallen style?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam makes a face. “Jesus Gabe. Just fuck…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think we’ve got time for that hotpants and I’m pretty sure that comaint wasn’t the aesthetic you were going for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam levels an epic bitchface at him for that. Gabriel’s lips twitch furiously, but a beat later he’s back to that heated expression, nostrils flaring, pupils dilating, looking at Sam like he’s the tastiest treat he’s ever seen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He winces as his cock throbs painfully in his too tight jeans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok here’s what we’re going to do.” Sam lets out a breath, drawing his attention back to Gabriel when he snaps his fingers in the air. Gabriel’s features soften as he takes in the strain Sam’s sure he’s showing all over his face. “Let me take care of you… Then ah… You take care of this little-” He points at his own erection and makes a face before continuing. “Huge situation. Then slap some paint on before junior gets any more ideas. And hey presto. Your Masterpiece will be complete. Easy peasy like a breez-y.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn it that’s… That’s fucking insane. But… but what choice do they have? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sam can’t speak. He knows just how strangled his voice would sound, so instead he simply nods his head. Gabriel’s eyes light up in that instant, bright pools of molten honey gold. His lips part. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sam really can’t see that. He really can’t. It’s far too much. He closes his eyes tightly, shuffling closer as Gabriel goes for his zipper, letting out a relieved sigh as he’s drawn out of his jeans, shortly followed by a desperate moan as Gabriel swallows him down in one long motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He bites back the cry that desperately wants to surface, acutely aware of the bustle of people just a short hallway away, acutely aware of just how goddamn crazy this is. He reaches down, grabbing hold of the only thing he can, grabbing fistfuls of Gabriel’s hair in some desperate attempt to anchor himself. It’s too much. Much too much. And at the same time it’s perfect. Gabriel lavishes attention on him, suckles carefully, before taking him deep, swallowing him down. Practically worshipping his cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something gives. He lets go. The tension melts away. He opens his eyes without realizing it, gaze drawn to the man beneath him, to the love of his life. Sucking him off in a room that’s barely bigger than a closet, right before the biggest step of his life… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s ludicrous. It’s perfect. It’s everything tangled up in-between. He gives himself over to it. Let’s his lover take care of him, crying out his name as he soars over the edge, spilling his release down his lover’s throat, knowing that Gabriel will catch him when he falls back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gentle arms hold him a moment, easing him through the tail end of his orgasm. He sinks to the ground, eyes finding Gabriel’s again as he takes him in hand. Gabriel gasps at just this simple touch, head thrown back, eyelids fluttering closed. So beautiful, so fucking beautiful. Sam dips his head, eagerly taking Gabriel into his mouth, keeping his hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. The taste is immediate, Gabriel leaking precome onto his tongue the instant his lips wrap around the bulbous head. Sam suckles, relishing the flavor before pulling back to lap more carefully at the slit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him is aware that Gabriel’s getting a little on the loud side, but God in that moment he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to hear that, wants to take his lover apart. He dips his head again and takes Gabriel a little deeper. Hips buck upwards on a strangled yell, but Sam’s hand is firmly in place. He doesn’t choke. It’s perfect. He sets a rhythm, stroking and sucking, licking and swallowing all that Gabriel has to give. He can feel his lover getting closer, fingers tightening in his hair. Smiling around the length in his mouth, he reaches with his other hand, between Gabriel’s spread legs. And that’s all it takes. Just a gentle press right there and Gabriel’s shaking beneath him, spilling his release down Sam’s throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam drinks down as much as he can take as Gabriel shivers through the tail end of his orgasm, pulling back to lap up the rest. He wants to bask in the afterglow of both their orgasms, to lay his head down on Gabriel’s shaking thigh, but he knows he has little time here, so instead he picks up the brush beside him, keeping hold of his lover’s deflating cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam halts for a moment, eyes drawing over the beautiful delicate flesh held in the palm of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gabriel I need to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only answer he receives is a jumble of meaningless mumbled words, Gabriel’s hand coming back up to stroke absently through his hair. Then… </span>
  <em>
    <span>love… love you Sam.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. Steeling himself, he brings the brush gently to Gabriel’s skin. He talks his lover through it, muttering words of love and comfort all the while. Gabriel is trying to hold himself as steady as possible, but he can’t stop the slight tremor that’s running through his whole body as Sam paints swirls of color over the sensitized flesh. Sam works with it, working as fast as he can, letting the motions become part of his brushstrokes, losing himself in the work again, in the perfect weight held in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel blinks the haze from his eyes. Looking up at Sam as he stands. That was… that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>intense.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But they got the job done. Or rather Sam did. Though Gabriel likes to think he lent a hand. Or rather a mouth. Nope hands too. Sam’s looking a little... well a lot disheveled. A little sweaty, rumpled and hair all over the place. Ah no. He just ran his hands through it and now it’s perfect again. How? Gabriel chuckles as he climbs </span>
  <span>onto slightly less than steady feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam spares him a glance, a small smile playing over his lips, that soon spreads into a wide grin. It was a genius plan, absolutely genius. Sam finished his work. That. But also he’s a hell of a lot more relaxed. Happy. Goddamn laughing. Ok what? Gabriel raises an eyebrow as Sam barks out a ludicrously loud equine laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of doing anything useful like say, using his words, Sam motions over to the mirror. Okaaaaay. He has been curious, what he can see of his skin looks incredible, but the whole, overall effect has yet to be revealed to him. He pads over, takes a gander and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What in the hells did you do to my hair?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam snorts out another of those donkey laughs, the reflection in the mirror capturing those pursed pretty lips and raised eyebrows. Gabriel rolls his eyes. Right. It was his genius idea. Ah crap. He’s pretty sure it looked less in disarray after his run-in with the hand drier that very first day. Holy cats. What’s he going to do with that? Sam at least has the decency to look vaguely sheepish when he finally walks over and hands over Gabriel’s brush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel huffs out a put upon breath, but really he can’t stay mad. Not for long at all. His eyes run over his body as he attempts to tame his unruly locks. Sam’s really outdone himself. It’s glorious. Speaking of passion. Pain. That definitely too. While the reminders of his own pain aint exactly pretty, he gets what Sam’s trying to do and it’s… it’s damn well perfect. He whistles long and low. Sam hovers a little uncertainly by his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel makes a face at him in the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quit flashing the puppy dog eyes at me Sam. It’s… it’s well…” He quirks a shoulder, before smiling brightly. “Perfection!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tossing the brush aside, he smirks and leans forward to plant a slobbery kiss on his reflection’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Gabe. Christ.” Sam nudges him out of the way, cleaning off the mirror hurriedly with his sleeve, before throwing a half formed bitchface at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel chortles at the sight. “Now you’ve just got my saliva all over your sleeve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lips quirk upwards. “Not the only place I’ve got your saliva.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel chuckles long and loud. “Touché.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stand there for a moment, just gazing dopily into each other’s eyes. It’s like a scene from a cheesy Rom Com. And Gabriel relishes every damn moment of it. But time presses on. The real world isn’t done with them yet. Before he can change his mind, Gabriel grabs hold of Sam’s hand, entwining their fingers together and begins to draw them towards the door. Sam pauses momentarily and Gabriel wonders if he’ll actually have to drag Sam out, maybe pick him up and carry him over the threshold bridal style… but thankfully he’s spared the potential hernia. Sam lets out a long breath, squeezes his hand almost hard enough to hurt and then he follows. Hand in hand they step out to face it. Together.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll try to have the next chapter up asap. I'm going to do a little more editing though, to polish the last few chapters a bit more.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A short glimpse into the present day...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>DEAN</p><p>As soon as the words are out he knows it was the wrong thing to say. All of it was the wrong thing to say. He should have kept his damn trap shut. But he knew it would have come out soon enough. Damn soon. With select evidence already handed over anonymously it was only a matter of time. He couldn’t sit on it any longer. And maybe… maybe he wanted to give Cas some hope, something to hold on to through all of this shit. But instead. Damn it instead…</p><p>“You had no right.” Blue eyes flash dangerously. Dean takes a step forward, but holds his hands up as Cas gives him that look.</p><p>God. How can he fix this? There’s got to be a way.</p><p>“Cas I-”</p><p>“Did you not stop to think?” Dean tries not to flinch as Cas rounds on him, eyes flaring with barely suppressed rage. “Did you not stop to think what would have happened had you failed? Did it not occur to you that you would be tearing the very last of my family apart?” Cas’ jaw clenches. He gives Dean one more dangerous look before he’s pacing away. </p><p>“But…” Something twists in the center of his chest. He takes a step forward, but thinks better of getting too close. “But Gabriel’s going to… he’s going to ok… right?”</p><p>The look that Cas gives him turns his blood cold.</p><p>“He’s going to be ok…” Dean repeats, hoping that the words will somehow make it true.</p><p>Cas’ jaw clenches, his gaze drops. Shit. No. <em> No. </em> That can’t be…</p><p>“It has been made clear to me that the chances of his recovery are less than favorable. That I may soon be called upon to make a decision on whether to continue his treatment or not.”</p><p>The pit falls out of the bottom of his stomach. He feels like the rug’s been pulled out from beneath his feet. No. Christ no. It can’t be true. Gabriel was going to get better. Ride off into the sunset with his baby brother. Probably with a string of beer cans and frickin dildos behind them. Some weird shit like that. They were going to be happy. Both of them, finally. They deserve it after all the shit they’ve been through. Their family was going to be complete. Words utterly fail him, but he makes to move over to where Cas is, hoping to say with his body what he’s failing to say with his words. To hold Cas in his arms. Offer him some small comfort.</p><p>“I think it would be best if you leave.” </p><p>The world pitches sideways. Like he’s wandered into some damn fairground fun house. He halts his motion abruptly, frozen on the spot, watching as Cas turns towards him, expression completely blank.</p><p>“I believe that your brother will need you in the days to come.”</p><p>And then he turns, walks away out the front door, leaving Dean frozen to the spot, mind reeling. He thinks to go after him, but something tells him how catastrophically stupid that would be. </p><p>Instead he walks through to their room, pulling out a bag and numbly packs a few things, thinking little of what he’s doing. Knowing nothing but the dull ache deep inside his chest. He’s felt it before, remembers the feeling all too well. </p><p>The deep and ever consuming sense of loss. </p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>The minutes slip into hours, the hours slip into days. He barely registers the passage of time. Not now. He drifts through it in a daze, dragging his body through the motions. He gets up. Sometimes eats. Sometimes cleans himself - though he often forgets about one or the other - dresses and heads to the hospital. And then he sits there. Hour upon hour upon hour. Staring blankly at the wall across from him, at the limp hand lying still on the bed before him. The beep and hiss of the machines is nothing but white noise.</p><p>He has no idea how much time has passed. There’s nothing to anchor him. Every day is the same. Dean tries to take care of him. Tries to make sure he eats. They both know that sleep is beyond him. Maybe beyond them both. His brother doesn’t say a word. No words of reassurance this time. There’s nothing left to say. And it’s clear to look at him. He’s just as lost as Sam.</p><p>Cas is like a ghost. They pass each other with little more than a nod. He’s there, always there, but never present. He avoids Dean especially. Sam has to look away. He can’t take the pain in his brother’s eyes. </p><p>Luke gets himself arrested, gets blindingly drunk and into a brawl. But he’s released without charge, the very same day. Everyone knows what he’s been through. What he’s going through now. Bonny gives Sam the news one day. He doesn’t ask why Cas wasn’t the one to let him know. Their family’s fractured. Without the glue that was holding them together… perhaps beyond repair. Some part of him feels like he should do something about Luke, but Bonnie assures him that Amelia’s got it in hand. That should perhaps worry him more, she’s hardly stable herself, but they oddly fit together and Sam knows he’d be of little use.</p><p>Another day draws to a close. He passes his brother’s form, curled up on the sofa, finally passed out from the strain and exhaustion he’s endured these last few days. Sam reaches his room, but he pauses. He knows he won’t sleep. Instead he walks through to his studio. He’s barely set a foot inside this room since the exhibition. He doesn’t know why he’s here now. He moves about the room, eyeing all his materials gathering dust on the shelves. All the abandoned sketchbooks. He picks up one, a particular one and settles down in Gabriel’s easy chair to flick through it. His breath catches on the image before him. The carefree sprawl. Gabriel. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. They’re the first he’s felt in days. Since that awful night, when his life shattered to pieces on the turn of one call. He’s felt too numb. Numb and raw at the same time.</p><p>But he can’t go on like this. He knows he can’t. He turns over the pages until he finds it, the drawing from Halloween night. The one that sparked that idea. The one that started it all. He feels for an instant like ripping the page from the book, maybe setting it alight. But in the next moment his heart clenches at the thought. He can’t destroy this. It hurts like hell right now, but he knows he never wants to forget, never wants to forget any part of all they shared that night. Because those memories, they may be all he has left. A sob wracks his body, tears spilling forth. He closes the book over, before the page can be spoiled. </p><p>He can’t go on like this. Living in this purgatory. This hell. Charlie’s words come back to him. The book she read to her mother, how it helped her say goodbye. Are they there yet? God he thinks that maybe they are. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. But perhaps… perhaps it’s time. Another sob rattles through his body. He lets it. He sets the sketchbook aside and curls in on himself. His eyes catch on the material slung carelessly over the back of the chair. He grabs hold of it, brings it to his face and breathes deeply. It’s faint, but it’s still there. He gives in. Breathing in the barest scent of the man he loved with every fiber of his being, he lets the grief take him whole.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry that was so short and hideously painful. Important note that I just realized I should tag on here. When Sam is thinking he can't go on like this... he is clearly in extreme distress, but these aren't suicidal thoughts. I'm not sure if I wrote it well enough and wanted to make sure they aren't misinterpreted. I would warn and tag for that. He is thinking about saying goodbye to Gabriel, rather than on quitting life altogether.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Chapter 32</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Exhibition!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Since the last chapter was incredibly short... Here's another.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>THE EXHIBITION</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SAM</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels light, his heart unburdened for the first time in days, maybe weeks if truth be told. All the anxiety that’s been churning around in his gut… it’s not gone exactly, but it feels like he’s seeing it and feeling it from a distance. Stepping into that room should be the hardest thing in the world. But somehow it’s not. Because… because of Gabriel. Because of the fingers entwined with his, because of his confident stride – head held high as he saunters into the room wearing nothing but Sam’s brushstrokes across his skin. Because of what they just did. God, yes most definitely that. He feels relaxed, all the tension drained from his body and out through his cock. Or maybe it was when he took Gabriel in his mouth. When he brought his beautiful lover to blissful ecstasy. Somehow that was even more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows this is going to be a rough ride. But he somehow knows that they’ll survive it and be stronger for it. Because if Gabriel can go through all the shit he’s been through… Not just last night, but all the shit he’s endured all his life… And still hold his head high… Still smile and wink at all the knowing looks they’re receiving right now… Then God, he can sure as hell get his act together and do the same. Oh ok, maybe not that. Sam snorts out a laugh and shakes his head as Gabriel sends a disturbingly manically wild eyed Becky a few dirty hand signals confirming exactly what they just did. He has to look away as Becky’s eyes widen so far that they look a little like they might pop out of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his attention to the group already gathering in the center of the room, ready for Ellen’s pep talk. His eyes alight on Charlie. She gives him a warm smile and a little eyebrow wiggle. Yeah that kind of confirms it. They were most definitely heard. Or at least Gabriel was. It’s hardly surprising. He wasn’t exactly quiet when Sam swallowed him down. Sam dips his head and flushes a little, but he finds it easy to return her smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellen doesn’t keep them long. The guests will soon be arriving. She gives Sam a concerned look before she leaves for the front hall. They talked a little when they arrived, just enough to reassure her that everything was ok. At least for the time being. Right now isn’t exactly the time to go into it. Sam nods his head and gives her a small smile. He’s ok.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie swings around the departing group and heads them off before they can make their way over to Sam’s station. Her eyes widen as she takes in Sam’s brushwork then widen again when she glances over Gabriel’s shoulder to the panel on the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit Noob. That is next level.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel looks incredibly pleased with himself, like the comment was somehow directed at him. And Sam supposes it was in a way. Though he’s not entirely sure…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubs the back of his neck with one hand as he glances first at Gabriel, then over his shoulder before circling back to Charlie’s face. She looks kind of shocked, but in a good way… At least he hopes it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… next level </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie shakes her head, like she can’t quite come up with a suitable metaphor, or perhaps more likely, a suitable pop culture reference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next level, next level. Damn it Noob, you weren’t supposed to come waltzing in here in the last year and steal everyone’s thunder… Captain Marvel…” She makes a face at that. “You know, if they’d actually let her do any of the shit she’s capable of before the grande finale. Seriously dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam flushes and dips his head, not having a clue what to say. He’s surprised that Gabriel hasn’t butted in already to proclaim that his come face is more powerful than Carol Danvers on a good day, but he seems a little distracted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie picks up on it too, her brow furrowing in concern at Gabriel’s continued silence. “Gabriel… last night… that was like the run on the Death Star and the Battle of the Pelennor Fields all rolled into one… are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel blinks for a moment, seemingly coming around from his funk, a wide smile spreading across his features an instant later. “Does that make me an uber talented Jedi in training or shield maiden extraordinaire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you a little short for a StormTrooper?” Charlie deadpans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel rocks back on his heels and chuckles heartily, all trace of whatever was concerning him gone. He clicks his tongue and shrugs one narrow painted shoulder. “Always looked better in a gold bikini anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie makes a face at him. “Dude do not sully the greatest erotic imagery of my sexual awakening. I need to be picturing the prime goddess of all that is nerdy. Not your hairy chest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel makes a mock offended face, but he says no more. They fall into a companionable silence. There’s a bustle about them. Charlie will soon have to depart through to the front hall, where her game is set up on a large screen and console. Sam feels kind of sad that they’ll be separated for the whole thing, but there was little to be done about it. Charlie’s work sits more comfortably beside the more abstract pieces, whereas this room is largely dedicated to figurative art.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t want to bring it up, he won’t point out that Gabriel never answered Charlie’s question, but he has to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s Natalie doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie purses her lips, her expression growing more serious. “It was tough on her. She had a rough night, but she’s holding up. I tried to convince her to take a back seat today, but you know… She wants to be doing something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam raises his eyebrows. Charlie’s lips turn upwards into a big smile. “The counter protest of course! She’s getting her General Organa on, heading up the Rebel Alliance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Counter protest? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Counter protest suggests that there’s a hell of a lot more going on than just a handful of kids who never got past their relative’s backwards views. At Sam’s worried look, Charlie’s smile falters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How bad?” he can’t help but ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie lets out a long breath. “Ah… Well it was getting kind of busy out there when we arrived. Looks like the assholes put out some call over the net, got all the douches in the local area riled up. But…” She steps forward and reaches out to give his arm a gentle squeeze. He can feel Gabriel reach out too, entwining their fingers once more and holding his hand firmly. “We put out the memo too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nods his head. Charlie moves in and gives him a quick tight hug. “We’ve got this Noob. Forget about the Empire. They’re nothing but a bunch of douches who can’t shoot for shit. They don’t stand a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She draws back and looks like she’s going to give Gabriel a hug too, but stops herself at the last minute, instead giving him a wide smile and a parting Vulcan salute, “Later bitches,” and then she’s gone, disappearing through to the front hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel tugs on his hand. Sam lets out a long sigh, dragging his eyes away from the entrance she just departed through. Shit, this is it. Gabriel pauses, draws his lower lip into his mouth and with a quick glance about the hall, he rises up onto his tiptoes, his other hand moving up to Sam’s hair. Sam dips his head, drawing Gabriel into a quick chaste kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got this Kiddo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks down into those striking honey gold eyes. There’s something deep within that gaze that makes him believe the words are true. He takes in a deep breath. He can do this. They can do it together. What’s out there is a world away. It’s of little consequence to the here and now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel squeezes Sam’s fingers tightly in his hand, almost hard enough to hurt. He quirks a lazy smile at him, raising one eyebrow as he starts to draw Sam over to his station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam snorts out an inelegant laugh and shakes his head. But the tension is gone. He squeezes Gabriel’s hand back and follows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GABRIEL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel lets it all wash over him. The exhibition’s in full swing. He shifts his ass a little, settling into the next pose, choosing a distant point and relaxing his features into the appropriate manly stare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he first started this he had a tendency to overdo it, to pout his lips too much, do a weird sort of smizing thing with his face. Then he vastly under did it and ended up looking far too vacant. Like he didn’t have more than two brain cells to rub together. Ellen soon set him right, showed him how to relax his features into what might be called the “attractive pensive face.” The life modeling Goldilocks of facial expressions. Lips lightly parted, but not gaping stupidly, eyes only partially focused. Not staring intently nor blankly. Just right. It’s become second nature. The fact that this situation is somewhat out of his usual remit doesn’t really matter. He just shifts every 10 minutes or so. Climbs to his feet and stretches every half hour, before settling back down. Sam’s laid out a comfortable covered mat beneath the piece, the base of the wings are lined so they don’t rub painfully against his shoulder blades. It’s a cakewalk. Or at least it should be…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s not just the dull throb in his ribs, that makes none of his usual positions all that comfortable, it’s not the curious gaze of a multitude of onlookers, who have come to admire Sam’s work upon his skin – who pretend oh so valiantly to be super high brow in their assessment, but inevitably their gazes are drawn down to his painted dick – not even that. No, none of that phases him in least. Sam’s work is nothing short of spectacular, but he can hardly blame them for taking a quick perv. In their position, he would do the exact same thing. It doesn’t bother him. Not one iota. No. No instead… it’s Zachariah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardly a blinding revelation, true. Zachy was always going to be an issue. Gabriel was ready to get his glare on, or his smirk. Or quite possibly both. His smare. He was ready for Apocalypse Now-ish. But then the asshole did something wholly and truly unexpected…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Took one look at Gabriel, butt naked and covered in Sam’s paintwork, and he merely smiled. No red faced, charging bull. No indignant splutter. Nothing. Just that one simple smile and then he looked away. No not simple. Not simple at all. Because that smile spoke volumes while saying nothing at all. It doesn’t make a lick of sense and that’s what bothers him, chills him to his core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that… that has Gabriel on edge more than anything. That and… God the two are most certainly related, but he can’t quite get his fucking mind away from that other smile. The one that’s likely to haunt his dreams for weeks to come. Probably a whole lot longer if he’s honest with himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he swallows it down. He can’t go there. He can’t lose his shit right now, can’t give in to the urge to run and hide. Sam needs him here, needs him to stay strong. Besides… besides… Nope he’s struggling with the besides. He draws his attention from the room at large to the man at his side, letting the cadence of his voice calm his frayed nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel can’t help but feel incredibly proud of the way he’s handling it all. He expected his gorgeous nerd to be 50 shades of gloriously flustered. And he was a little. Stumbled over his words, that deliciously rosy flush coloring his high cheekbones as he dipped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Mmm hmm. Gabriel stole as many glances as he could get away with. Until he realized it was turning him on. A lot. So he looked away, just listening instead of watching. And that was hardly any better. He had to give his dick a stern talking down a few times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But slowly, surely, Sam gained confidence. He learned to ignore the head shaking, the poorly disguised sounds of distaste. He learned to defend himself against all that douchebaggery, with a heavy dose of sass. And fuck, that turned Gabriel on too. Much as he loves Sam’s flustered Nerd routine, the sassiness? Mmff. Hells yeah. So he has his work cut out for him. It’s a distraction at least. And he finds he’d rather deal with his wayward dick, than worry about what’s facing them out there. So he listens. Feeling all sorts of warmth permeate his being. The current interested party gives Sam one last gushing review and moves on. It’s almost time. So Gabriel takes the opportunity to un-tuck himself from his position and gives his limbs a stretch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swell my Samilicious. Swell.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows it’s probably a bad idea, but he can’t help turning towards his boyfriend and sending him a wide smile. Sam’s cheeks are still a little on the flushed side, kinda sweaty under the armpits, but that smile. Holy hotcakes. The warm feeling spreads until it feels like it might just burst forth from his chest, like Sam’s paintwork has somehow come to life. He gives Sam one more quirk of his lips, before he has to look away. It’s just too much. He looks at that anymore and he’s going to have a real groin emergency or maybe he’ll just drop down on one knee and propose right here and now. Butt naked. In the middle of a damned exhibition. It’s certainly a thought… He shakes his head to clear it. As much as the temptation is there. As much as he sorely wants to declare his undying love and claim Sam as his giant nerd ‘till the end of time. It’s not the place and it’s certainly not the time. Too soon. Still too soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes drift over the room as he stretches out his limbs a little more, eyes alighting on a familiar tan trenchcoat, moving through the crowds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cassie!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cares little just how ridiculous he must look like this, painted schlong swinging as he waves vigorously. Big broster’s face looks all frowny for a moment, a little like he just smelt a fart and is pondering on exactly who dealt it, before his lips turn upwards into a small, rare smile. Gabriel grins back, before dropping down to the floor and settling into position. Maybe his pose is a little exaggerated this time. A bit more clothing catalogue than high art, with a hand under his chin and… ok an eyebrow raised. He can hear Cassie’s soft rumble as he approaches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Cas… uh thanks for… thanks for coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sam is back to the flustered nerd pup. He knows he should be posing, but he can’t help but watch. Cas gives Sam a reassuring smile before standing back to look at the work as a whole while Sam shuffles nervously beside him. Gabriel reaches out a hand, grabbing hold of Sam’s fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze before letting go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassie gazes at the work for a good long while before turning back to Sam. He only looks mildly uncomfortable and flushed as he reaches out a hand to give Sam’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Good ol Cassie. The review he gives Sam isn’t just needlessly gushing, it’s honest and heartfelt and… oh fuck. Gabriel reaches up a hand and surreptitiously wipes away the tears that were trying to form there, careful not to smudge Sam’s work. Holy crap. His little bro’s overly earnest bearing can sometimes get on his nerves, but right at this moment Gabriel’s never felt more glad for who his brother is. How he can somehow push through all the awkward bullshit and get to the heart of the matter. How the hell Cassie ended up like that he has no idea. Maybe Luke and he did something right. Maybe they sheltered Cassie just enough from the worst of it. Or maybe it’s just who he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hells. He has to look away. He watches the ebb and flow of the crowds, just letting himself feel it for a moment. That deep ache. The sadness and happiness all mixing together in a bundle at the center of his chest. One of the wait staff moves past with a tray laden with tall glasses of fizz. Damn but he could do with one of those right about now. And so could Sam and Cassie it would seem. Gabriel frowns as they take the offered drinks, before the waiter moves off. He rolls his eyes heavenwards. Is he part of the furniture or something? He looks over at Sam pointedly, the complaint dying on his tongue as he takes in Sam’s furrowed brow and Cassie’s serious expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not worry. I shall stay until you leave.” Cassie reaches out once more and squeezes Sam’s shoulder. “You are not alone. You have done incredible work here that you should be proud of. Those that do not see that… they are not worth your time or worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he’s moving off, moving on to the next artist in the line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam shakes his head a little, the furrow reappearing between his eyes. He looks down into the glass in his hand before meeting Gabriel’s worried gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… Cas just… he said it’s getting kind of bad out there. I…” He shakes his head and takes a quick sip of his drink. “Ah fuck. Let’s just… I guess we’ll deal with it later, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel draws his lower lip into his mouth, trying his best to school his features, not letting Sam see the worry that lies beneath the surface. He nods his head, letting a small smile play over his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correctomundo Captain Hotpants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam snorts out a laugh at that and shakes his head. Gabriel gazes at Sam’s dipped head, at the twitching corners of his mouth, at those gorgeous dimples that appear right there before shaking his own head and settling back down into position. He can’t quite take his eyes off Sam just yet though, because the glass is at his lips again, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes another long sip… Wait…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel furrows his brows and snaps his fingers in the air, looking pointedly at Sam’s glass. What can only be termed as an eyebrow off shortly commences. Sam looks like he’s on the verge of a giggling fit by the time they’re done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry Gabe… I should have… ah here…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he’s holding the glass out. A mischievous smirk curves Gabriel’s lips upwards. He knows this is absolutely the wrong time and place for this sort of game, but he also knows that the distraction is helping Sam, drawing his mind away from all the crap that awaits them. So instead of reaching out a hand to take the offered glass, he leans forward and up and places his lips at the rim of the glass. The sound that escapes Sam is half snorted donkey laugh, half choked off groan. And it’s absolutely glorious. He looks expectantly up at Sam’s flushed face through half lidded eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Gabe,” Sam hisses under his breath, but he doesn’t remove the glass. Instead he draws in a breath and ever so slowly tips it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brava, brava! What magnificent work! What an astonishing talent!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s eyes widen comically, cheeks burning scarlet as his head whips up to take in the rapidly approaching figure. He jerks the glass back a little too quickly, failing to straighten it completely. More of the sweet fizzy liquid dribbles down Gabriel’s chin than actually reaches his mouth. The look on the woman’s face at the tableau in front of her. Gabriel narrowly avoids tumbling backwards as a fit of giggles threatens to take hold. She pauses, making absolutely no effort to hide her obvious pleasure as she runs her eyes over the scene she just interrupted. Gabriel’s pretty sure she doesn’t miss the unmistakable tightness in Sam’s pants. He follows her gaze down. Ah oops. Nor his rather more obvious slightly plumped member. He hisses in a breath and hastily rearranges his limbs as the woman picks up a cocktail glass from a passing tray, takes a long gulp of the liquid within and makes her way over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind is frustratingly blank when he casts around for something to dampen his mild arousal, so he forces himself to look over at Zachy, something Gabriel’s avoided doing for the last hour or so. He’s surrounded by his usual entourage of asslickers, lips stretched into a smarmy smile. He says something. No doubt utterly boring and pointless. And on queue the little clutch of douchebags titter away with matching looks of fake mirth plastered over their stupid faces. Oh and there’s Naomi, over there making someone cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel has to look away. There’s little he can do from here and the little aside has done its job. His dick is behaving itself for now. Sam is hovering nervously beside the woman as she regards his panel, eyes heavy lidded, sipping sensually from the glass as she looks her fill, making appreciative noises all the while. Now he’s a little less distracted by his little misdirected blood flow quandary, he realizes that he’s seen her before. The well dressed seductress from Sam’s last exhibition just before Christmas. The one who was rather enthusiastic about Sam’s work and perhaps a little overly enthusiastic when she recognized Gabriel’s visage as being one and the same as the one twisted in pleasure upon the wall. Ah… this should be… this should be interesting. The dress she’s wearing is dark lace over plush velvet, revealing and hugging her petite but lithe form in all the right places. Probably designer, certainly expensive. And then there’s the rather obvious wealth dripping from her ears and neck in the form of a wildly ostentatious jewel encrusted necklace and earrings set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heartbeat starts to pick up. Could this be one of the V.I.P.s everyone’s been talking about? This could be good for Sam, very good indeed. His eyes drift over to his boyfriend’s clearly nervous frame. He’s hunching in on himself slightly, arms held awkwardly at his side, sweat rings rather clear beneath his armpits. Yeesh. That’s not so good. Sam’s confidence has taken a step backwards. He’s off kilter. Flustered. Damn. Gabriel wants to lean over and place a reassuring hand on him, but the woman’s standing right between them. He tries to catch Sam’s eyes, but they’re glued to his own artwork, cheeks still flushed scarlet as he stares at… Gabriel can’t exactly be sure, but he thinks it might be the glorious brushstrokes rendering his erupting cock. The woman’s looking closely at these too. Oh no, now she’s not. Gabriel looks hurriedly away, relaxing his face into what he hopes is his best “attractively pensive” pose, though he’s sure some of his nerves are showing as the woman circles around him, eyeing both the structure of the piece and the planes of his body with equal consideration. He maybe sucks in his gut under her scrutiny. Just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s quite a tidy, wee tush you’ve got there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She says it low and perilously close to Gabriel’s ear, but… Gabriel’s gaze flicks to Sam just in time to see Sam’s features settle into the most potent bitchface he’s ever seen… hoo boy he definitely heard that. He tries to capture Sam’s attention before he steamrollers all over his own career, but he knows by the look in his boyfriend’s eyes that it would be utterly useless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not for sale.” Sam bites out, eyes alight with barely suppressed anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t be a turn on. It really shouldn’t. But combined with the bitchface… the sheer delicious sassiness is too much to take. For the lady too it would seem. She doesn’t seem so much put off, as rather excited by the sudden outburst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Sam watches incredulously, jaw clenching and unclenching all the time, the woman reaches into the front of her dress and pulls out a small slender card. She pauses for a moment, eyeing Gabriel’s ass again, like she’s maybe thinking of slotting it in-between his pert cheeks, but instead steps forward into Sam’s personal space, tucking the card into his top pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry dearie. I have no intentions of breaking up this glorious masterpiece. But you can’t blame a woman for admiring the…” She stops, running her tongue along her lower lip seductively, before leaning in to whisper a word in Sam’s ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel raises his eyebrows as Sam’s expression turns gloriously baffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam blinks down at the woman, still standing far too close to his chest, before turning to see the owner of the voice sweep his way through the crowd, striding confidently towards them with purpose, decked out in what, unless Gabriel’s very much mistaken, appears to be a pretty sweet deep red Armani suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I leave you alone for one bleeding moment…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come now Fergus, what’s a woman to do? Pander to any old work that a drunk 6-year-old could execute with more skill,” Gabriel barely holds onto the raucous laughter that wants to break free as the woman arches a pointed eyebrow in the direction of Zachariah’s display, before gesturing with a flourish behind her to the image of Sam thrusting vigorously up into his tight channel, “or skip straight to the grand prize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr Armani huffs out an annoyed breath. “I told you not to call me that mother, it sounds like a venereal disease…” He chuckles at the put upon expression on his mother’s face before sauntering around Sam, who’s still standing there, gaping at Gabriel with a look of utter bewilderment on his face. “…and not of the fun kind. But… I get your point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s utterly abandoned any pretense at posing. He can’t help watching the expression on the man’s face as he looks over Sam’s work, completely ignoring his mother’s waspish reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s heartbeat switches into overdrive as the man draws his eyes slowly over the imposing expanse surrounding Gabriel’s crouched form before finally turning around to face Sam, running those assessing eyes up his tall frame in the same manner, a small smile spreading over his features. “Well well well… Moose, it seems that you have quite outdone yourself.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So apparently, I can't write while I'm posting another story. My brain just isn't wired that way. So I guess that means I'll need to post this fairly quickly. I really got stuck into the editing last night and I think I'm reasonably happy with the final edit. And that may mean this gets posted within the week. It probably makes sense to do that as I'm heading into GISH and won't have the time. Next update likely tomorrow, or Weds. See you soon for more cheerful trauma.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Chapter 33</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*WARNING*: do not try this at home kids. Like seriously, don't.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>CASTIEL</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Doctor Green looks up from her notes and regards him carefully. He wonders if she will try to talk him out of his decision, but she merely nods her head. </p><p>“We have an onsite councilor, if you wish to discuss…”</p><p>She trails off when he shakes his head. Some would see her as perhaps a little cold and clinical, but Cas has never found that to be the case. She will not push him on this and he appreciates the consideration. </p><p>“Very well, if you change your mind, just let any of the staff members know and they can arrange an appointment.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Cas rises to his feet and makes his way to the door. </p><p>“Mr Novak… Castiel,” Cas pauses at the doorway and turns to face her. The professional façade falters for a moment and he can see the emotion beneath. “I’m sorry the news isn’t better, but I believe it’s best that you understand the prognosis.”</p><p>Cas nods his head again. If he speaks then he is sure his voice will waver. He understands. </p><p>He intended to return directly to Gabriel’s bedside, but he finds that he cannot. Instead he heads towards the exit, paying little attention to those that pass him by. The first breath of fresh air is somewhat of a relief. He pauses a moment to fill his lungs, before making his way across the parking lot. He bypasses his vehicle. He will not go home either. He does not want to leave Gabriel for long and he finds little comfort in the empty stillness of his apartment. It hasn’t felt like home… not since Dean left. His breath hitches in his throat. He misses his partner. A deep ache ever present at the center of his chest. But he equally feels the harsh bite of anger and betrayal when he thinks of what his lover has done. He shakes his head. He does not want to dwell on that now. </p><p>Before long he finds himself on the winding pathway leading through the small park at the center of town. He walks a short distance until he finds a secluded bench and settles down onto it.</p><p>He rests his elbows on his legs and hangs his head. He feels weary. Weary and hollowed out. He has not slept well since Gabriel… A sound escapes him. He thinks perhaps that it might be a sob. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He had thought that he was ready. He had thought that he had considered every option logically and come to the correct decision. He was ready to go into that room and do what was necessary. He had reasoned that it would be best for Luke. Gabriel’s condition deteriorated so rapidly and unexpectedly… It was a shock to everyone involved. But it was perhaps worse for Luke than for himself. Because Luke had not dared to hope as they had, for so very long. And just when he let his guard down… He never saw Gabriel awake. Cas doesn’t know if that was for the best or not. Luke does not talk, he lashes out instead. Cas had reasoned that drawing out this… this torture was taking too much of a toll on his elder sibling. He fears that the longer he waits, the further Luke will descend. </p><p>Last night he spent long hours leafing through the few photograph albums he has. Over and over again. Reliving all the joy and heartache of the years gone by. It is difficult to reconcile the being he sees in these images, widely smiling, his buoyant mercurial personality somehow issuing from the pages, with the reduced figure lying still in that hospital bed. He let himself cry until the tears would no longer come. Let himself feel that loss, deeply, profoundly. Cas loves all his brothers, even Michael after all the hurt he has caused, but Gabriel… Gabriel is perhaps the best of them all. A bright shining light in all of that darkness. He has a caustic tongue. He’s sarcastic to a fault and he never quite cares just how wildly inappropriate he is, but at his heart he is brave and kind and cares deeply about those he is close to. Their father may have been distant when their mother passed, but Cas never felt unloved. Luke may have sheltered and protected them, worked hard to put food on the table. But Gabriel… Gabriel sheltered his heart.</p><p>It was never going to be easy, but he had thought he was ready to let go, ready to say goodbye. He walked into that room with every intention of doing just that. They have all suffered enough. It was time…</p><p>But he could not. He feels tears sting at the corners of his eyes. It would seem he has tears yet to shed. He lets them fall. Perhaps he will be ready in time. Perhaps be ready to accept that his brother is really gone. It is likely that he is only delaying the inevitable… He has read the literature through and through… But… but there is that small part of him, buried deep inside that is unwilling to give up, unwilling to let go. Perhaps it is his upbringing, seeking out a miracle that is unlikely to come, perhaps it is even the logical part of him that speaks of statistical outliers. It is not impossible. There are patients who wake months, even years later, with little explanation as to why. He knows that those cases are so rare that they would drown in the noise if every prolonged coma was reported in the same way. For every apparent medical miracle there are countless others that languish in medical facilities for years, families drowning in debt and sorrow because they cannot bear to let go.</p><p>He does not wish to subject his family to that. It’s not fair on Luke, or Sam, or even Gabriel.</p><p>But… he is not ready… not yet.  </p><p>~~~</p><p>3 DAYS LATER...</p><p>SAM</p><p>It’s late. Far later than he realized. He forgot to set the alarm again. He runs a hand over his face feeling the rough scrape of the stubble there. He stopped shaving again several days ago. There seems very little point. The sheets are tangled around him. It takes some time to extract his limbs and roll slowly out of bed. He should probably throw them in the washer, but it feels like far too much effort. He relieves himself and washes his hands afterwards. </p><p>He tries not to look, but his eyes catch on his reflection anyway. His brother wasn’t just being a jerk. He really does look like hell. It’s no surprise. He barely sleeps, barely eats. What little he does tastes like ashes in his mouth. He takes in a deep breath. Fuck. He can’t… can’t go on like this. He stares at his reflection through bleary eyes, hands gripping the edges of the sink. Gabriel wouldn’t want this for him. Part of him knows that. Maybe it’s time. He takes in a few breaths. In out. In out. Enough. Enough.</p><p>He washes carelessly, not entirely sure if he shampooed twice or actually used any conditioner, forces down some food with a little OJ. Dean’s not here to guilt him into it, but he almost passed out yesterday after skipping two meals in a row. He needs to function. Today will be hard enough as it is. </p><p>Once everything is taken care of, he moves silently through the apartment, gathering all that he finds. Gabriel wasn’t exactly the neatest of partners. There are tennis shoes scattered here and there, Sam’s old flannels draped carelessly over the backs of chairs, half read books left in haphazard piles, many open and face down, clearly damaging their spines. He finds one of Gabriel’s janitor uniforms crumpled at his side of the bed along with a mismatched pair of socks that... well... that smell a little like they may have been worn more than once. He makes a face and tucks them into the overflowing wash basket. He can’t exactly pack them away like that. </p><p>More than anything though, more than anything he finds… lube. Lube here, there, and everywhere. More tubes of lube than Sam even thought possible. He’s honestly surprised his brother hasn’t said anything about it. Especially when he finds one wedged between the sofa arm and the cushion. He can’t help the small smile that curves his lips upwards at the sight. Shaking his head, he retrieves it and brings it through to the bedroom where he’s laid out an old suitcase. </p><p>He’ll have to sort through all of this eventually. It hardly makes sense to keep like 50 assorted bottles of flavored lube… but now… now just doesn’t feel like the time. Now he just needs to pack it all away. Because the constant reminders of his absent lover are slowly tearing him apart. He can’t live like this. It looks far too much like time is frozen still… </p><p>Every morning he awakens, part of him is sure that if he just clears the sleep from his eyes, the nightmare will fade away.That Gabriel will pad through that doorway wearing nothing but one of Sam’s shirts, lean against it with arms crossed over his chest and throw him a lazy, seductive smile. And every day he feels it keenly, that jolt as reality reasserts itself. Gabriel isn’t home. Gabriel isn’t coming home. Not now… perhaps not ever again. And a deep ever consuming grief grips him tight, swallows him whole, hollows him out until he feels numb and empty all over again. </p><p>No more.</p><p>The light is fading from the sky by the time he zips the case closed and pushes it beneath his bed. Good. He doesn’t have to wait long. He forces down more food and packs the necessary supplies in his bag. There’s just one more thing to do. As he heads towards the door he stops at the hooks upon the wall, grabbing his jacket and slipping the heavy ring of keys into his right hand pocket, before leaving his silent apartment behind. </p><p>~~~</p><p>Sam’s heart is in this throat as he approaches the building. There’s nothing left of course. No trace of what happened here that day. But even still… even still he thinks he can pick it out. The place where… His stomach turns. He thinks for a moment that he’s going to lose its meager contents, but after one more sickening lurch the sensation eases. It was never going to be easy, coming back here. If he closes his eyes he knows he’ll see it all. He’s seen it so many times, played out in high definition every goddamn night. He swallows around the lump in his throat and forces himself to move forward, drawing Gabriel’s keys out of his pocket as he goes. He scrambles for long moments, trying to find the right key, his hands shaking far too badly to even be sure the fit on each isn’t correct, but finally the lock engages and he pushes through into the room beyond.</p><p>It's mostly empty, the walls all but bare. There are only a small number of pieces left. A few students who had to rush home perhaps, who will pick up their work at a later date. And there also appear to be a few with small red circle stickers. The sold pieces. Presumably awaiting the completion of transactions and collection arrangements. He moves through the room quickly into the adjacent hall.</p><p>He stops abruptly, legs threatening to buckle beneath him, wholly unprepared for the onslaught of emotion that hits him like a tidal wave. Grief, love, joy, anger, pain, sadness. It all twists around in his gut until he can barely separate one from another. Gabriel was right, Ellen was right. He’s never painted anything more heart wrenchingly beautiful. Despite all the usual insecurities he had somehow known. He was proud of what he achieved, what Gabriel helped him achieve. It was everything he imagined it could be and so much more…</p><p>His heart clenches painfully in his chest as he takes a step forward and then another. </p><p>But as he draws nearer another emotion uncoils from the pit of his belly. Was it worth it? Was it really worth it? To feel like he was expressing himself, writing their love large and loud for everyone to see. Poking the goddamn Beast just because it made him feel like he was what? Powerful? Important? Was it fucking worth it?! Was it worth everything he had?</p><p>His hands clench into fists at his side. He draws the bag from his shoulder, pulling it roughly open and spilling the contents on the floor. He grabs the claw hammer. Heat is pounding through his veins, fury clouding the edges of his vision. He stops, barely a foot away, drawing back the weapon and…</p><p>It clatters to the ground with a resounding thud that echoes through the empty room, landing just short of his booted foot. The image of Gabriel’s beautiful face blurs as tears fill his eyes. He can’t. God he can’t. </p><p>He falls to his knees, head held in his hands. His whole body shaking, he lets out a desperate wracking sob.</p><p>He has no idea how long he stays there, but something tells him that time is running short. Gulping in a shaking breath, he clears the remaining wetness from his face. He blinks up at the panel, his eyes only just catching on that one simple red dot.</p><p>The sound of the laugh escaping him almost startles him. It doesn’t sound anything like him at all. He shakes his head. Laughs again. <em>Christ</em>. Gabriel was right about that too. It actually fucking sold. He’s $20,000 richer.  Not that it means a goddamn thing now. </p><p>Sighing, he gets to his feet. If he wants to get this done, he needs to begin. He may not want to destroy it all anymore… Christ it doesn’t even belong to him anymore. But the second piece was always intended to be temporary. It was never meant to endure.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Sam grimaces at the cloying scent of white spirit. He always favored the more natural brush cleaners, but he kept some by anyway. Sometimes he worked a little long and nothing else would quite get all of the paint out of the bristles.</p><p>He wipes a hand over his sweaty brow and stands well back. He knows all too well just how fucking dangerous accelerants can be and he’s not so far gone that he wants a goddamn fireball in the face or third degree burns. He lights the rag carefully and taking a deep breath, throws it as best he can. He thinks he didn’t quite hit the mark at first, but then there’s that unmistakable sound as the flames take hold, quickly engulfing the structure before him. </p><p>There’s a moment when he feels panic begin to grip him tight, the sights, sounds, smell, overwhelming him in that instant. Part of him wonders if this was a spectacularly bad idea. To use something that still holds such pain and fear for him. He wonders if he’s going to spiral into a full blown flashback. Stupid. So stupid. But he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and another until the cloying terror recedes. Slowly he opens his eyes, watching as the flames lick over the surface, feathers curling and swiftly turning black. No… No oddly this feels right. Maybe cathartic. It won’t take long. He retreats a few steps further and settles down on the ground beside the fire extinguisher. He was careful in his placement, dragging the sculpture far from any buildings, but he knows just how important caution can be. He won’t let his stupidity cause any damage. He’s already done enough damage to last a lifetime over. </p><p>Eyes still fixed upon the flickering flames, he draws his hand down to his left pocket. His heart skips a beat when he feels the tear there. <em> No… oh God, please no </em>. Anguish twists painfully in his chest as he reaches his hand into the pocket. But there… Fuck. He lets out the breath he was holding as his fingers brush against supple leather. It’s still there. God. Blinking back tears, he closes his hand around the cuff and draws it out, turning it over and over in his hands. There. He runs one thumb over the embossed initials. S.W. Christ, he thought he’d lost it. Stupidly lost what Gabriel entrusted to his care, right before the exhibition. He meant to give it back before they walked out, but somehow in all the chaos and worry it slipped his mind.</p><p>He holds it in his hands as tears run silently down his face, just running his thumb over those initials, over and over again.</p><p>“Gabriel I-” When he finally finds the words, his voice catches in his throat. He swallows and tries again. He needs to… needs to see this through. “Gabriel… I ah…” a small laugh escapes from his lips. He smiles down at the cuff in his hands, before beginning again. “I guess I sound like a crazy person…” He looks over at the burning effigy of his pain. Work that took him months to complete. He supposes he is pretty goddamn crazy. He swallows again, looking back down at the black leather in his hands. “I just… going to the hospital… I’m not sure I can do it anymore. I can’t look down at your face and know that... God maybe I’m wrong… but it feels like you’re not there anymore and I can’t…”</p><p>He breaks off into another sob. It takes long moments before he feels strong enough to speak again. </p><p>“Gabriel… you were. God… you were <em> everything </em> to me. I’m not sure if I told you… nearly often enough. I was going to…” He pauses letting every ounce of the regret he feels wash through him. “I was going to ask you to… I was going to ask you to marry me.” It comes out sounding barely above a whisper. “I always thought… always thought there would be time. But I wanted to… I wanted us to grow old together. To… I don’t know… lead our crazy lives together. Screw around in the most inappropriate places.” He lets out a small laugh; it tastes bitter on his tongue. “I hoped that maybe… maybe I could get a few commissions, save a little and… fuck Gabriel I never expected it, but the damn painting sold. I could have shown you the world. Or just a… just a small part of it. I wanted to give you everything, but instead I took… Christ… It feels like I stole your future away from you. Maybe I am… maybe I am cursed.”</p><p>Fuck. He rubs a hand over his face and draws in a shaking breath. </p><p>“I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to… Christ I never meant any of this to happen. Gabe… fuck… I miss you so much. I keep waking up, thinking that it’s all a bad dream and it hits me… god it hits me again and again. And I know I caused this. I know I fucked up. And sometimes I feel like I fucking deserve to suffer for all that I’ve done- But… But I know that you wouldn’t want that. I know that you would want me to go on. And I promise you… no matter how much I just want this hell to end… no matter how much I just want to give it all up… I… I won’t. You gave up everything for me. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why. You were always so much… so much better than me. But you… you gave your life for me and I promise… I promise it won’t be for nothing.”</p><p>He falls silent for a moment, just watching the dying flames. There’s little left but a twisted frame and ashes dancing on the light breeze.</p><p>“Gabe… I love you so Goddamn much… I’m not sure I’ll ever get over losing you… ever truly be able to say goodbye… but I promise you I’ll try. I promise you… I’ll get up every damn morning and I’ll try. I’ll find a way… no matter how long it takes… how hard it is…”</p><p>He draws in another shaking breath that seems to rattle through his whole body.</p><p>“…I’ll find a way to live without you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Even though Sam was taking precautions, I will reiterate... don't do this at home. The line in there about the fireball, that happened to someone who tried to use white spirit to light a bonfire. It is seriously dangerous, nasty stuff. As to why Sam didn't use standard lighter fluid... he simply didn't have any and probably assumed no one in town would actually sell him the stuff. It's a small town. People talk. </p><p>So Sam burning the wings... I don't know. I felt like he would edge into self destructive behavior and the whole image of the charred wing shadows from the show... It was an image I couldn't get out of my head. </p><p>I'm going to try to post the next chapter later today, but I don't know if I'll get a chance. I'm not getting a whole lot of time to myself right now so yeah... Tomorrow if not. </p><p>So sorry for making you all cry. Seriously snotty tears when I wrote all of this. And then I had to edit it over and over. Yeah... almost cried every time. </p><p>Hold tight. It won't be much longer now.</p><p>Oh extra note: I did update the chapter total as my numbering went off. Oops. The last two chapters will be the epilogue, posted as a two-parter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Chapter 34</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would say, here's some fluff/smut to make up for the last chapter. But this... this is definitely not that. Hold on to your hats Kiddos...</p><p>*WARNINGS*: violence. Major character injury. Descriptions are not very graphic, but please see tags.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>THE EXHIBITION</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam stares down at the card in his hand. It’s simple, spare, classic. So much so that he has no clue what it means. </p><p>“What the hell just happened?”</p><p>Gabriel chuckles softly, limbs unfolding as he climbs to his feet. It’s not exactly time for a change of pose, but the exhibition is drawing to a close. Most of the visitors in the room have viewed all of the artwork and are now standing around chatting and enjoying the free drink and nibbles provided. Sam glances over to see Gabriel swipe a profiterole from a passing platter and pop it in his mouth before turning to face him, shrugging his narrow shoulders. Cream covered lips quirk upwards as he leans in to read the card in Sam’s hand.</p><p>“Crowley? That rhymes with growly.” He snorts out an inelegant laugh and grabs Sam’s hand, turning it over so that they can both read the text on the other side. He immediately lets out a long low whistle.</p><p>Sam quirks an eyebrow, only just resisting the temptation to lean forward and lick the remaining cream from Gabriel’s lower lip.</p><p>“Holy Hotcakes Sam, you’ve arrived!”</p><p>“Ah…”</p><p>Christ that lip is distracting. Gabriel smiles widely, dimples appearing at the corners of his beautiful mouth. He waves his hand excitedly in the air, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Sam desperately tries to keep his eyes above waist level.</p><p>“Heaven ‘n’ Hell Sam!” </p><p>He whistles again, seemingly completely oblivious to the utter bafflement on Sam’s face. Beyond the obvious, the phrase is utterly meaningless to him. Gabriel makes a face at him when he doesn’t immediately participate in the celebrations.</p><p>“Yeesh really?”</p><p>Sam shakes his head, but he can’t help the small smile that curves his lips upwards.</p><p>“The nightclub Sam. Down the road in New Bern. Last time I was there… ah ok… not my finest moment. I may have ah…”</p><p>Sam raises his eyebrows, before suddenly it hits him. Despite it all he can’t help the snorted laugh that escapes him. “Puked on a bus stop?”</p><p>Gabriel hisses in a breath. “Bus stop adjacent. And it wasn’t exactly right outside or anything but… ah there may have been some risqué dancing… Some shots. Well you saw the um evidence.”</p><p>Sam laughs and shakes his head. “I saw a girl treating you like a human popsicle.” He makes a face as he realizes just how hideously that phrase could be misconstrued.</p><p>Gabriel chuckles heartily and rocks back on his heels before his features suddenly twist into a horrified grimace. “Yikes even the thought of that…” He shivers violently. “Those hands alone were deadly weapons.”</p><p>Sam isn’t exactly keen to go down that train of thought. It was bad enough enduring the advances of the mysterious redheaded woman. Thinking about the predatory way she looked over Gabriel’s body gets his temper raising.<em> Christ</em>. He turns his attention back to the card again. </p><p>“But what does it mean?”</p><p>“Jeez Louise. Do I really have to spell it out to you?... Again?”</p><p>Gabriel huffs out a long sigh when Sam merely raises an eyebrow. </p><p>“I.P.s, with a heavy emphasis on the V. Admiring your work. Hells Sam, this is it. Your career just took off into the stratosphere.” He jabs a finger at the card in Sam’s hand. “This is a big deal, one hell of a big deal. This guy? He aint just rollin in the big bucks. He’s influential to boot. They don’t call him the King of Hell for nothing. This… this is huge.”</p><p>Sam blinks down at him. Gabriel’s lips aren’t twitching of their own accord. He seems… seems sincere. But still…</p><p>“I don’t know… I mean he probably handed these out to-”</p><p>Gabriel cuts him off with a groan. “Really Samsquatch? Really?” He rolls his eyes heavenwards. </p><p>Sam almost chokes on his own tongue as Gabriel’s suddenly right up in his personal space. He thinks deliriously for a moment that his boyfriend’s going to yank him down by the front of his shirt into a highly inappropriate searing kiss, but instead he merely reaches into Sam’s top pocket and brandishes the second card, waving it right in Sam’s face.</p><p>Sam swallows and takes a step back before grabbing the card from Gabriel’s fingers. His eyes widen as he reads the delicate script. </p><p>“Holy shit.”</p><p>“Language Samuel!” </p><p>Sam looks up to see his 3D media tutor, Professor Ketch, tutting and shaking his head before moving on, the barest, almost imperceptible, hint of a smile playing over his features.</p><p>Sam winces. Then he flushes as his mind supplies him with the image of Professor Ketch decked out in hardcore fetish gear and brandishing a bull whip in an admonishing manner. <em>Christ</em>. He really wishes Gabriel hadn’t shared that little insight with him.</p><p>“Sharing is caring Sam… what’s the bu-Jesus!” </p><p>Gabriel’s suddenly in his personal space again. Sam has to hiss in a breath as his naked cock brushes against Sam’s thigh. He attempts to throw his boyfriend a massive bitchface, but it falters completely as he takes in the pure open joy spreading Gabriel’s lips into a wide smile.</p><p>“Rowena MacLeod! The Queen of the brushes herself! Do you have any idea what this means?!”</p><p>Sam can’t help but be caught up in the bright light dancing in those honey gold eyes. <em>God</em>. He shakes his head to clear it. “I think… I think she was a little more interested in the canvas than the actual....”</p><p>Gabriel preens slightly, before chuckling and shaking his head. “Kiddo, she’s clearly a woman of good taste, but come on! You saw how appreciative she was of those brushstrokes.”</p><p>Sam opens his mouth to retort that he’s pretty sure it was the well formed, somewhat flushed and straining <em> subject </em> of those brushstrokes that clearly caught her attention, but instead he’s completely derailed and blindsided by the sound of a familiar voice, that has absolutely no business being here. No business at all. </p><p>Because really, what the <em> actual fuck </em> is his brother doing here?</p><p>Sam takes in a deep breath, clenches his jaw, and settling his features into the very best bitchface he can conjure, he turns to face the figure stomping his way unceremoniously through the bustle.</p><p>Dean stops briefly, momentarily distracted by a passing waiter, swiping a mini pie from the tray before shoving it in his face and continuing on his way.<em> Jesus Christ</em>. He’s not really looking their way, instead scanning the room as a whole until their eyes finally meet. He swallows down his mouthful, lips splitting into an easy smile. For an instant. That is before he catches sight of Sam’s rather large and difficult to miss panel behind him. His eyes widen comically, a succession of expressions flitting over his features so rapidly that Sam can’t keep up. </p><p>He should be pissed, he really should, but he can’t help the ridiculously loud barking laugh that escapes him at the sight. And then Dean’s eyes land on Gabriel…</p><p>The air hisses in and out of his lungs, his eyes watering as he doubles over. Gabriel all the while chuckling away beside him while rubbing soothing circles over his back. Dean muttering under his breath in between taking large gulps of his drink. Eventually the laughter subsides and he can finally straighten up and face his brother. For a horrible instant he thinks that another all consuming laughing fit will take him over, the uncomfortable look on his brother’s flushed face a little too much to take. The way he’s attempting to divert his eyes from the panel by looking down, only to catch sight of Gabriel’s naked groin and flushing even more furiously, diverting his gaze once more... <em>Christ</em>.</p><p>“Jesus Sammy,” Dean grumbles eventually. Then his features shift again. He opens his mouth to say something, but Sam heads him off.</p><p>“Dude, you weren’t supposed to be here so there’s no way I’m paying for your therapy this time. You brought this all on yourself.”</p><p>Dean lets out a small laugh, eyes darting to his face briefly before darting away. He clears his throat a little and turns pointedly around. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but circles around his brother, making a face and raising his hands. <em> Happy? </em></p><p>Dean inclines his head in a small nod, before throwing up his own hands in disbelief as Gabriel swings around to Sam’s side, painted cock swaying with the motion.</p><p>“Come on!” Dean groans at the same time as Gabriel chuckles and circles his forefinger in front of his face. “Eyes up here Dean-o.”</p><p>Dean sighs and makes a few more faces before rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, expression suddenly turning a little more serious.</p><p>Sam frowns. “Dean… Why are you here?”</p><p>Dean lets out a long breath before finally meeting Sam’s eyes. “Cas called me, said it was getting a little rough out there. Thought you might need backup.”</p><p>Sam bites his lip. Damn. He knew it would be hard, but the exhibition itself has actually gone a whole lot better than he expected. Zachariah and his companions have given him a wide berth rather than engaging. Sure he’s had one or two comments, more than a few disapproving looks, but he was coping with that and jealousy issues and weirdness aside, that last interaction had left him feeling kind of elated. It was easy to let all that crap slip from his mind. But the exhibition is drawing to a close. It won’t be much longer until they have to face it all. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels warm fingers entangle with his own, squeezing his hand tightly. He doesn’t need to hear Gabriel say it, he gets it all the same. <em> I’ve got you Kiddo </em>.</p><p>He doesn’t miss the expression on his brother’s face when he looks back, though he hides it quick enough… fondness. It makes something clench a little in the center of his chest.</p><p>“Uh anyway… ah… I think I’ll just wait outside…” His eyes drift to Gabriel, they share a look before Dean makes a slight face and turns away. “Gonna scope things out a bit. But just…” Dean takes in a deep breath. He shuffles from foot to foot for a moment before seeming to come to some decision. When he meets Sam’s eyes this time he doesn’t look away. “You know I’ve got your back Sammy. Both of your backs. You haven’t done anything... I just. Uh…” He steps forward and grasps Sam’s shoulder briefly but tightly. “I’m proud of you Sammy. Really damn proud.”</p><p>~~~</p><p>Sam fidgets nervously with his sleeve, fingers edging underneath to brush over the supple leather there. He almost jumps out of his skin at the sound of Ellen’s voice.</p><p>“Sorry Sam, didn’t mean to startle you.” Ellen tilts her head to the side and regards him with worry in her eyes. “How are you doing?”</p><p>Sam draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. “Honestly?”</p><p>Ellen nods her head.</p><p>“I don’t know… I mean it’s… it’s a hell of a lot to process. I mean all of this…” </p><p>He waves a hand to encompass the room. There are still plenty of people walking about, drinking, chatting and enjoying the atmosphere, but the crowds have thinned out some and the private viewing event is drawing to a close. Gabriel’s already taken his leave to go wash up in the shower room, available for staff and students practicing the messier arts. He blinks, cheeks flushing slightly as he realizes he’s paused for too long. Ellen merely gives him a small encouraging smile. </p><p>“Ah it was actually… it was actually kinda great.” He flushes even brighter at the proud look on Ellen’s face, dipping his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… also a little overwhelming I guess, but not what I expected.”</p><p>“I was a little busy in the front hall at the time, but I heard you may have gotten a little attention from a certain couple of highly important business people.”</p><p>“Uh…” Sam doesn’t know quite what to say to that. He still hasn’t quite gotten his head around it. “I guess…”</p><p>Ellen actually rolls her eyes at that, startling a laugh out of him. “No guess about it Sam. Crowley and Rowena were very complimentary about your work last time. I was hoping they would take up the invitation again.”</p><p>Sam frowns a little and it’s Ellen’s turn to laugh. “You aint got nothing to worry about there.” </p><p>Ellen gestures with a tilt of her chin towards the back entrance. When Sam turns, his breath catches in his throat. Gabriel looks stunning, absolutely stunning. He was almost too nervous to take it in this morning, but with those tight black pants fitting so perfectly to his form and the plain white smart shirt, that shows off the strong planes of his chest and well… definitely his nipples, belly pressed lightly against the fabric… He’s even taken the time to blow dry and brush his hair neatly. The look is simple and understated, but shows off his best assets perfectly. Sam suddenly feels incredibly under dressed… and Christ really quite sweaty. Maybe he should have put in a little more effort… </p><p>A moment later, the thought is chased away, along with any other thoughts or fears he might have had, as Gabriel’s eyes catch on his, as his lips spread into a wide dimpled smile. He skips the rest of the steps towards them, the bright smile never leaving his face. For one moment Sam thinks he might speed up and launch himself into Sam’s arms again, like he did at the last exhibition. He braces himself just in case. But thankfully Ellen’s spared that show. Gabriel stops just short, merely grabbing hold of Sam’s hand when he reaches them and smiling broadly at them both. </p><p>“Ready to Rumba Hotsauce?”</p><p>Sam has to blink at him stupidly for a moment, mind diverting down a wrong and ludicrously inappropriate path before he can stop it. But Gabriel is clearly not suggesting he drops his pants and takes Gabriel right in the middle of the exhibition hall, no matter how many times he’s used the term to mean exactly that. </p><p>Sam’s stomach churns uncomfortably as he catches up to what they’re going to be doing instead. And then… Christ then they can’t even go straight home. They have to go to the goddamn station for Gabriel to give his statement to the Deputy. Has he forgotten? Is that why he’s so damn calm? But no… no he’s pretty sure Gabriel’s keeping a lid on it and showing a brave face for his sake. The least he can do is return the gesture.</p><p>“You kids want to take the back exit?”</p><p>Sam bites his lip and turns to Ellen. God that would… That’s really damn tempting. He looks down at Gabriel. </p><p>“Up to you Kiddo.”</p><p>Sam takes in a deep breath as he thinks it through. They’d have to take a big detour around, to get back to the station, and avoid the crowd. Which wouldn’t matter exactly... Only… their friends are out there. Natalie and Charlie... she left a little early to join the group... Kevin probably too. They’re all out there. He looks over the hall, eyes catching on Zachariah. He isn’t looking in their direction, talking animatedly to Professor Richardson, an incredibly smug look on his face as Professor Richardson points at his work. </p><p>Yeah no. As difficult as it will be, he doesn’t want to give Zachariah the satisfaction. Of forcing them to sneak out the goddamn back exit like they have something to be ashamed of, like they’re the ones who have actually done something wrong. No. Fuck that. He sets his jaw.</p><p>“Uh no… thank you, but I think we should… I think we should go out the front.”</p><p>Gabriel squeezes his hand tighter. As he looks down at his lover and sees the look of sheer pride in his eyes, his heart skips a beat, or maybe a dozen. This isn’t going to be easy, but it’s the right thing to do. And with Gabriel by his side, he knows he can face anything the world chooses to throw at him.</p><p>~~~</p><p>A few meager paces outside that door and he’s already regretting his decision. The noise is so much louder than he thought it would be. He’s not sure if it’s been like this for hours or if it was their appearance that engendered such a reaction. Despite the flimsy tape lining either side of the footpath, it feels like the crowds are pressing in from either side. A quick glance around when they first exited, showed him that the University security team are present and what looks like a couple of Deputies, one of them painfully young. But they’re clearly barely keeping a handle on the situation. He almost stepped right back into the hall at that moment, but Gabriel squeezed his hand tightly and gently pulled him forwards. </p><p>His eyes catch on Charlie, Natalie, Kevin and a few others he doesn’t know, waving rainbow signs and cheering in support. Some show the all too familiar image of Gabriel with his hair slicked back and that ridiculous porn tash upon his lip. One girl waving such a sign with a great deal of enthusiasm appears to actually be wearing a cross around her neck. He vaguely remembers Charlie mentioning a forensics major who left the Christianity group when Zachariah took over, who not only joined the LGBT group, but also set up an unofficial secondary Christian society. One that sought to call out bigotry, instead of dishing it out. Sam’s tempted to go over to them, maybe to give some word of thanks, but something jostles him from behind. </p><p>He freezes, heart in his throat, sweat springing up from his brow. But when he turns his head he’s merely met with an apologetic smile. Becky, steadying Chuck as he recovers from his stumble. She sends a truly epic glare in the direction of a protester, who’s clearly gotten a little too close, before giving Sam a mildly incongruous thumbs up and dragging Chuck in the direction of the LGBT group. Chuck’s mouth is open like he was clearly in the middle of saying something, but the words are completely swallowed by the noise. He winces, stumbling a little more as he scrambles to follow. </p><p>Sam swallows. He needs to get out of here. The crowds aren’t keeping behind the lines any more. The Deputies and security staff are trying their best, but it’s absolutely no use. He hopes to hell that they’ve called for backup, because the situation is clearly devolving beyond their control. Breathing heavily in and out, he starts to move forward again, eyes this time fixed on his own feet. He feels something brush against him and stiffens, but when he looks to his side all that greets him is Gabriel’s bright smile. Fingers grasp hold of his hand, squeezing briefly before letting go. Gabriel’s been moving around a little, doing what he always does. Facing all that anger with a cocky smile and his head held high. But Sam doesn’t miss just how frequently he returns to his side. Checking in on him, making sure he’s doing ok. </p><p>Part of Gabriel is enjoying it… It’s kind of difficult to fathom, but it’s just the way he is. And Sam’s glad of it, glad that Gabriel isn’t cowering at his side, eyes as downcast as Sam’s own. It’s just not his way. He’s meeting it all in the way that Sam wishes he could. And there’s something about that that lights a fire in the pit of his belly. That makes him feel every ounce of the love he has for everything Gabriel is, so keenly that it almost overwhelms him. His breath catches in his throat as Gabriel leans in and shouts in his ear.</p><p>“Lucky your name’s Sam and not Adam, hey. Otherwise this clearly couldn’t happen.”</p><p>Sam doesn’t have a clue what Gabriel’s talking about. He casts his eyes about briefly, but the sight of all those angry faces is just too much to take. This had seemed like such a good idea. What the hell was he thinking? He makes a little noise of acknowledgment, not really sure of what to say, before dropping his eyes to his feet again. Part of him knows that he’s letting Gabriel down, but the sense of sheer panic is threatening to swallow him whole. If he keeps his head down and just keeps going, then maybe he can get through this without dropping to his knees, curling into a ball and just wishing the world away.</p><p>Fingers tighten briefly around his arm and then Gabriel’s on the move again. He can hear him vaguely through the clamor, screwing around with some of the protesters. He almost smiles. But suddenly he’s aware of something else, a voice calling out to him through the crowds.</p><p>“…Sammy!”</p><p><em> Dean? </em> He draws up short, eyes casting about in the direction he thought he heard his brother’s voice. Someone is pushing their way through the crowds, and fast. His stomach drops, his ears suddenly ringing as adrenaline surges through his body. Gabriel… Where the hell is Gabriel? He whips his head around in response to a motion to his left. He barely has time to register the expression on his face, barely has time to register what the hell is happening at all, before Gabriel’s right there, stepping in front of him.</p><p>It happens in an instant, far too fast for him to begin to react. Sam catches merely a glimpse, a figure surging forward from the crowds with purpose, something held tightly in his grasp. There’s a grunt and a gasp, barely audible above the clamor, and Gabriel’s crumpling to the ground.</p><p>At first he doesn’t understand. He grabs onto Gabriel’s body on instinct, halting his fall. That’s when he sees it. The blade coated and dripping red. And it hits him like a freight train. A sound escapes him, far too primal to be given a name. He pulls Gabriel into his arms at the same time as he twists his body around to protect him from any further hurt. He’s going to leave himself wide open, part of him knows that, but in an instant it doesn’t matter at all. Because Dean’s there, wide eyed, but determined. Sam doesn’t see much beyond the impact, as his brother collides with the attacker and they fall to the ground. Fear twists in his belly. It’s all happening far too fast, a tangle of thoughts spiraling through his head, threatening to overwhelm. He’s torn. The two most important people in the world to him are in danger… but part of him knows that Dean can more than handle himself. And ultimately, in his gut, he knows that if he doesn’t act fast all will be lost. </p><p>At the first sight of the red bloom rapidly spreading across the front of Gabriel’s shirt, a desperate sob escapes from between Sam’s lips. </p><p>
  <em> No. God no. Please God no. </em>
</p><p>He’s vaguely aware of the sounds around him as he lays Gabriel carefully down, head pillowed in his lap. No further attack will come. Dean has the situation in hand and one of the Deputies is approaching. It’s a relief, but only for the briefest instant.</p><p>Gabriel doesn’t cry out, doesn’t make a sound. Like he somehow hasn’t quite processed what’s happening to him. <em> God Gabriel. Why would you… Why would you do that? God… Please… please hold on. </em>A little furrow appears between his brows as Sam starts to hastily shed his shirt with shaking hands. Gabriel’s lips curve upwards and Sam thinks for one delirious moment that Gabriel might be so far out of it that he might actually hit on him. </p><p>“It’s… it’s just a flesh wound.”</p><p>He feels one corner of his mouth quirk upwards of its own volition, his heart clenching painfully at the very same time. Because Gabriel’s doing what he always does. Even now. <em>Christ</em>. Trying to make him smile. <em> God please be ok </em> . <em> Please </em>. It’s taking too long. He grabs hold of the fabric and pulls, tearing the shirt apart. He’s seen enough through working with his father not to lose his lunch at the sight beneath, but sheer panic tries to tighten about his throat all the same. He swallows it down sharply. He can’t lose his nerve now. Steeling himself for the agony he’s about to cause the man he loves, he presses down on the open wound, hoping against hope that it’s enough, as a scream is torn from Gabriel’s lungs.</p><p>“Shhh, it’s ok… I’ve… It’s ok Gabe, I’ve got you… You’re going to be ok.”</p><p>Sam doesn’t know if it’s the truth. It feels in that terrible instant like fate is balanced on a knife edge. But he needs Gabriel to know that he has him, that he’s never letting go…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I agonized over how much to to include, but in the end I felt it was right to leave it here only just overlapping with the start of The Art of Loving You Part I. When I was writing it just felt like a natural cut off point and it seemed unnecessary to go into the ambulance arriving, EMTs taking over and such. I still not sure if it was the right decision. I hope this doesn't disappoint. </p><p>A few notes: So campus security is shit. They majorly underestimated and mismanaged the situation. Cutbacks, arrogance. i don't know. They allowed a police presence but didn't want a big one because it would look shitty from a press perspective. Stupid, but there you go. They didn't know the full situation of course because Gabriel was adamant about dealing with it after the exhibition. Cas wasn't present when it went down because Dean and he were taking turns to circle the building. He would have arrived shortly after Gabriel passed out and was present for the ambulance journey.</p><p>So Gabriel's first nightmare was what happened up to the point where in the nightmare he couldn't get to Sam in time. It was so visceral and real that his mind was utterly convinced that Sam died. There was a teeny red flag in there... or at least a red sign. His mind was warning him with the dripping red paint. In reality the paint was black (see the chapter where they're getting ready).</p><p>Yes I know I probably shouldn't have to explain so much. *facepalm*. Apologies. I am a major novice at writing anything remotely like this. This whole series was supposed to be a single smut scene... but as soon as I touched it, it exploded into this multi part behemoth of a verse. I have absolutely no idea how that happened.</p><p>Next update very soon. Possibly today. I'll try. The past has caught up to the start of the present and we are going to be turning a corner...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Chapter 35</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little note on the timeline: I realized things could be a bit confusing so I added to the last present day part 3 days later on Sam's part. So 3 days elapsed between Cas being asked about removing medical intervention and Sam burning the wings.</p><p>All is not lost... I'm sorry it took so long to get here but...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>...It’s ok Gabe, I’ve got you… You’re going to… you’re going to be ok.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sure thing, kiddo.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gabe! Gabe! Please god… don’t please... Stay with me Gabe. I love you. Please stay with me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not goin anywhere hotsauce.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nooooooo! Gabe… Gabriel…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>…s’ok... just a… just a little siesta…</em>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam stares at the dying embers, the words echoing through his mind. It’s past time he left. It’s unseasonably cool tonight. He can feel the chill starting to seep into his bones from the hard ground beneath him and it’s unlikely to be much longer before the next security sweep. He’s said his piece. All he could bear to utter. But it doesn’t seem enough, nothing feels like enough. He supposes it will feel like this for a damn long time. Gabriel wasn’t just his lover, he was the love of his life. It sounds overly dramatic and yet there’s nothing more true. And he wonders, sat here alone in the dark, he wonders if Gabriel even knew. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. After the exhibition… that’s when their life together was supposed to really start. Free of all the bullshit, free of all the turmoil. Just them. He was going to do it, as soon as he got the chance. Do a little research. Find the perfect ring. Find the perfect moment. Find the perfect spot… </p><p>Why the hell did he wait? It seems so stupid now. He’s been here before. He knows that life can turn on a breath; that everything can be taken away in an instant. At least Jess knew. At least there was that. But with Gabriel he waited. Waited until it was too damn late.</p><p>Did he know? Did he damn well know? The sadness is slowly dissipating, anger taking hold once more. He thought that burning this… this effigy… would do something, would mean something. But it’s not nearly enough. He can never repay, never make up for all that he’s done, never make up for all that he failed to do. He suddenly wishes to hell that he’d packed that bottle of bourbon that Dean left behind. Drown his sorrows. Forget all the grief he’s caused. </p><p>He comes back to it time and time again. <em> Why?  </em></p><p>He’s long since given up on trying to figure out why Don Roman decided his life was worth ending. Maybe it’s even a little too clear to see… but Gabriel… </p><p>He lets out a sob. He thought he was all cried out, body dry and empty, but no… He thinks that question will haunt him for the rest of his life. Why did Gabriel step in front of him? Why the hell did he think that Sam’s life mattered more than his own? And how the hell… how the hell can he live up to that?</p><p>His body shakes. He draws his knees up to his chest, holding the cuff tightly in his hand. God he wishes he could change it, more than anything in the world. If he could just go back there, do something different. React faster. Throw Gabriel out of the way and take the knife like it was intended… No, then Gabriel would have to witness it. Back further. Go out the other way? Ellen certainly offered it, so why the hell didn’t he take it? He laughs; the sound bitter on his tongue. But now that he’s thinking this way, why the hell didn’t he stop it before Gabriel got hurt at all? All those bruises… Why the hell didn’t he drag Gabriel along to the damn station there and then? Why didn’t he pick up his fucking phone when Gabriel was calling him that night? Why… and this is the kicker… why the <em> fuck </em> did he put Gabriel in danger in the first place?</p><p>He swallows down the bile that rises in his throat. The fucking painting. The stupid ass idea with the sculpture. His goddamn pride. His desire to be better, do better, to matter. Maybe to make a dead father proud, in a way that would probably have done exactly the opposite had he been alive. Zachariah was wrong. He got it all twisted around. Gabriel didn’t drag him down, he did that to Gabriel. Gabriel was happy. Living his life the way he wanted. Then Sam came along and spun his whole world around. He caused it. All of it. Gabriel may have called himself selfish, but Sam was the selfish one. He knew who he was, what he was. Knew exactly what damage he could do…</p><p>He takes in a sharp breath. He wants to scream, but he knows how little good it will do. Would it have been better that way? If he’d looked away? Ignored those impulses completely. Maybe Gabriel wouldn’t have fallen for him. Maybe… Maybe… </p><p>Something twists deep within his being. Despite it all, despite all that has transpired he can’t bring himself to regret it, regret all that they had. No, God no. He may be selfish, he may be damned to hell, but he can’t regret that. Gabriel loved him. That much he knows. And in his heart of hearts he knows… that his lover wouldn’t change that. No matter the cost. He can almost picture it, Gabriel in front of him right now, reaching a hand out and wiping his tears away.</p><p>“I’m sorry…”</p><p>He startles when he hears the voice that follows, expecting no reply. He was so lost in his grief that he failed to notice the figure approaching at all.</p><p>“What did you hope to achieve with… this?”</p><p>It’s a question that Sam doesn’t know how to answer, especially to the man who asks it of him. How can he tell Cas the truth? That he hoped to say goodbye.</p><p>~~~</p><p>2 DAYS AGO…</p><p>CASTIEL</p><p>It’s a blip, nothing more than a blip. Perhaps a malfunction of the machine. Perhaps within the noise. Cas frowns. He listens for long drawn out moments, but no other malfunctions occur. Sighing heavily he returns his gaze to the text before him.</p><p>~~~</p><p>1 DAY AGO</p><p>He signs back to Bonnie. <em> No, I am fine </em>. She looks at him a moment, like she is considering calling out the lie, but eventually she nods her head, taking her leave. It is a relief. Much as Cas enjoys her company, he has little patience for pleasantries. Dean was here earlier. Hovering uncertainly outside the room. The light was shining just above him. Illuminated in the spotlight, Cas could almost count the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. But he averted his gaze instead, pointedly looking away, trying to ignore the look of hurt on his lover’s face. He does not know what the future holds for them, but he knows he cannot deal with it now-</p><p>He almost misses it, lost so completely in his own thoughts. But there it is… again. Cas closes over the book in his hand and stares at the machine in front of him. Nothing seems untoward. But it is perhaps best that he informs someone.</p><p>A nurse is sent to take his brother’s vitals. Nothing. Everything is the same. Just before he departs for the evening Doctor Green stops by on her rounds. She rechecks everything, finding nothing herself, but she reassures Cas that the night staff will keep a watchful eye. She stops him just before he exits.</p><p>“Mr Novak… Castiel… It’s unlikely to be anything but… it might be… it might be time to prepare for the worst.”</p><p>Cas sleeps fitfully that night, the possibilities swimming through his mind. He’s read so many stories, done so much research. All those stories blend into one. Part of him knows that the doctor is right, his research confirmed as much. This could very well be the beginning of the end, Gabriel’s condition destabilizing further, so that even all those machines cannot keep him alive.</p><p>But another voice tells him a different story. What if…? Either way there’s little he can do but wait. He turns over for the thousandth time, pulling the tangled covers over himself. Wishing that he had a warm body to curl around, that strong arms would hold him, comfort him, until all his worries subside. But he’s alone. As he always is. As he always was. Since he moved out of the haphazard rundown home they shared. He used to fall asleep to the sound of Gabriel’s voice. Ever talking. Never silent. Speaking nothing of real consequence and yet his constant babble felt significant all the same. If he closes his eyes maybe he can hear it. Maybe he can hear it one last time.</p><p>~~~</p><p>EARLIER THAT DAY</p><p>When Castiel arrives the next morning he can sense that something’s changed. Gail heads him off before he gets any further than the lobby.</p><p>“Don’t get your hopes up but…”</p><p>And that’s all it takes. Hope blossoms unbidden in the center of his chest. He’s caught in a whirlwind barely able to process from one moment to the next. Change. Real change. Not just a blip any more. No far, far more. </p><p>It takes a very long time to notice it, to notice the notable absence. Guilt burns sharply at the center of his stomach when he realizes it. Sam. Sam has been… well Sam has been like a part of the furniture. Always present but saying nothing. He blames himself for that. The anger was all consuming. Mostly for Dean, but he could not look at Sam the same way either. But now… if he does not act now then he may be breaking a promise. A very important promise. He curses to himself. He does not want to leave the room at such a crucial juncture, but this is important also. It means something to Gabriel. And if… if he isn’t just hoping in vain… if it truly transpires…</p><p>He makes his excuses, moving out into the hall. He pulls out his cellphone and quickly finds Sam’s number.</p><p>~~~</p><p>“Castiel I-” </p><p>Cas waves her off. He knows what she was going to say. It is useless to play the ‘what if’ game. He has seen the naked emotion in her eyes. A malpractice suit is the least of her worries. She fears that she missed something, but Cas believes that that was not the case. He has read the literature. The chances were infinitesimal. Gabriel suffered a severe complication, reintubation did not go well. They almost lost him, more than once. She did not say it, but he could see it in her eyes. She almost called it, but something kept her going. And after that, nothing for days. She gave the correct prognosis. No one could have predicted that Gabriel would be such an exceptional case.</p><p>“My brother is more stubborn than anyone I’ve ever met. You could not have known.” Cas swallows around the lump in his throat, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He has not felt them for days. It comes as almost a relief. “I perhaps know him best and yet I did not think that he was capable of such... obstination. I believe my older brother Luke would say that he is… ‘attention seeking as usual’.”</p><p>April spares him a small laugh and he finds himself smiling back. “You could call it that. I might even get a paper out of this.”</p><p>Cas chuckles softly. “Yes. I believe that he would very much enjoy the attention that would garner.”</p><p>But the situation is rapidly evolving. It is past time. He lets out a long sigh and climbs to his feet.</p><p>“Please excuse me for a moment. I have a call to make.”</p><p>Stepping out into the hallway he tries Sam’s cellphone for the second time.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Hazy eyes blink back at him, questioning. Something clenches deep within him. Gabriel remembers. His mind seems to be far clearer this time. The new medical regime appears to be doing its job, the rate of recovery unprecedented. Gabriel’s will to survive is far stronger than any could have anticipated. Stubborn, yes most definitely stubborn. Though Cas can see the doubt in his eyes. A hot anger uncoils itself from the pit of his belly. Sam has made a liar of him. He knows the anger is somewhat unjustified, but he feels it all the same. When Gabriel needs him most, he is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>He lets out a breath, trying to calm his temper. It will do no good to let his brother witness it. He takes hold of Gabriel’s hand and squeezes it gently.</p><p>“I shall go find him…” </p><p>He wants to say more, to promise that Sam will be present after his extubation, but he is wary of making promises he may not be able to keep. He squeezes Gabriel’s hand once more and makes his way out of the room as the nurses prepare to move him into surgery. It is all so soon, but April assured him that it was the correct thing to do. The chances of him developing a postextubation laryngeal edema again are greater the longer they delay. And now that they know he is susceptible, it is hoped that they can stave off any complications with the use of steroid medication. </p><p>He takes a deep breath, willing the call to connect. But of course it does not. The last thing he wants to do is to leave Gabriel’s side, but it is looking more and more likely that he will have to do just that. His eyes alight on another number. It would be the logical choice. He squeezes his eyes shut. No. As stupidly stubborn as he knows it is. No. He brings up Luke on speed dial instead. He cannot avoid Gabriel forever. Cas simply will not take no for an answer this time. It would be foolhardy in the extreme to send Luke to retrieve Sam. It is highly unlikely that he would be returned in one piece. However he can watch over Gabriel whether he wants to or not. Set in his resolve, Cas hits dial.</p><p>~~~</p><p>PRESENT DAY</p><p>The moment the words are out, he realizes just how ridiculous they are. He supposes that he should be grateful that Sam chose to harm his work rather than himself. Sam turns around to face him, tear tracks standing out clearly on his face, even in the dim light cast by the dying fire. Cas lets out a heavy sigh. Part of him is still angry, that he has been forced to spend so long away from Gabriel side, that Sam has proven so difficult to find.</p><p>“Cas I…” Sam trails off, looks away. </p><p>Cas sets his jaw, he lets his hands clench and unclench at his side. He wants to let out all his frustration at Sam, to demand to know why he has given up on Gabriel so readily, when he knows that his brother would not do the same. But an instant later he knows just how unfair that is. Gabriel is ever the optimist, it’s true, but fear led him to do the very same thing, not so long ago. And had Cas not given up also? Only changing his mind at the last instant. It is clear that Sam is suffering, that it has become too much to withstand.</p><p>He steps cautiously forward and crouches in front of Sam’s prone form, laying one reassuring hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“You cannot change the past Sam, you can only choose how to act now. What happened was not your fault and all is not lost… Gabriel is awake.”</p><p>Despite it all Cas cannot help the smile that spreads over his features as Sam’s head whips up, wide eyes meeting his, disbelief, hope and joy warring for domination of his expression. </p><p>“Gabriel is awake.” He repeats, not sure if Sam is daring to believe his words. </p><p>And then he has his work cut out for him, keeping steady as Sam’s large frame is suddenly wrapped around him, with enough force to knock him backwards and enough strength to knock a fair portion of the air from his lungs.</p><p>And he finds himself tightening his own grip a moment later, squeezing back with all his might. Because he finally feels the words he tried to hold on to are true… all is not lost. And perhaps his family is not so broken. Perhaps it will heal in time. </p><p>~~~</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam walks into the hospital in a daze. He wants to believe it’s true, he really does, but part of him is convinced he’ll wake up any minute now. He’s had countless dreams like this, maybe as many as the ever present nightmares. Somehow they’re worse. To feel that peace, that joy, only for it all to be ripped away each time he wakes. Each time the cold, hard reality reasserts itself. </p><p>But the floor beneath him feels solid enough. The sounds clamoring for his attention a little too complex and multifaceted to have been conjured by his mind. All that white noise he’d learned to tune out. It threatens to overwhelm him now. </p><p>He freezes, Gabriel’s room just in sight. His heart is in his throat. He’s hoped, hoped for so long. Wanted this more than anything in the world. But now he’s petrified. He can't pinpoint exactly why. He feels a hand on his elbow; Cas gives him a reassuring smile. Taking a deep breath, he nods his head. He needs to keep going.</p><p>As they approach he can hear voices, though he can’t quite make out the exchange. Dean? By the slight grimace on his face it would seem that Cas wasn’t expecting that. And… is that Luke? </p><p>Sam steels himself. He feels wired, adrenaline coursing through his body. Anticipation… fear… and so much more he can’t even begin to catalogue it all. But- He catches snatches and he can’t help but shake his head, a small incongruous smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Really? That’s just… really? And suddenly he doesn’t feel so afraid. Because it’s so damn absurd that it can’t be an illusion. This is his family through and through.</p><p>And yet he’s still nowhere near prepared for the sight that greets him when he rounds that corner. It feels like a swarm of butterflies has taken up residence in the centre of his chest. His stomach somersaulting at the same time. God. He wonders if he should pinch himself, though he’s already done it so many times that he’s sure Cas has noticed. But instead he just stands there gaping, hardly able to believe his eyes. </p><p>“Dude I told you to watch over him for one damn- Seriously man what the hell are you doing…”</p><p>There’s a loud obnoxious snort. Maybe Luke makes a sarcastic reply, but Sam is distracted, eyes drawn quickly away from the cellphone held in Luke’s hand. </p><p>He’s barely clothed in an open backed hospital gown that doesn’t even appear to be properly tied, struggling to keep upright in the centre of the room, yet still shuffling determinedly forward dragging wires and tubes behind him. Dean reaches him quickly, grabbing hold of him before he can slump to the ground, only to be met with a steady glare. There are words. They’re not audible from here, barely above a whisper, but the intent is clear enough. </p><p>“Gabriel you should not be out of bed.” </p><p>Cas moves around him, striding purposefully into the room and makes to grab the cellphone from his brother’s hand. Luke pouts and laughs, holding it out of the way. </p><p>“Luke that is enough! You are supposed to be taking care of your brother, not ridiculing him.”</p><p>Something clenches painfully in Sam’s chest. He’s witnessing something his brain is busy telling him can’t be true, but somehow in that instant, when the figure turns his head and glares at Cas this time, he knows without a doubt. It’s real. </p><p>But willing his limbs into motion is yet an impossible task. That is until the figure turns his head again, expression shifting from annoyance into shock, into… <em> God. </em> Those honey gold eyes, lit up as though from within. Those beautiful lips, spreading into a wide dimpled smile. It doesn’t matter that it falters a second later as he takes a stumbling step forward, almost faceplanting in a tangle of his own wires as Dean fails to steady him quickly enough. Sam’s no longer frozen.</p><p>He isn’t aware of the in-between. One instant he’s still standing gaping, unable to believe his eyes and the next Gabriel is in his arms. He holds him there a moment, just staring down into those beautiful eyes… But reality reasserts itself swiftly. Gabriel is shaking a little too much, too weak to keep upright for long. With his brother’s help, he leads Gabriel back to the bed, settling him carefully down. He’s vaguely aware of the others leaving, Cas admonishing Luke for his highly inappropriate behavior all the while. But finally they’re alone.</p><p>His heart is thundering in his ribcage. His throat feels suddenly dry. He stares stupidly at the man that he loves more than anything in the world. The one that he thought was truly lost. He never thought he would look into those eyes again, never thought he would be able to smooth the messy hair from his brow, never thought that he would hold his lover in his arms again… Never thought he would see that beautiful smile. His heart is aching. A deep throbbing ache in the center of his chest. Not the way it was before, but no less difficult to endure. He had thought that he would know exactly what to say. Played this scenario out in his head countless times over… </p><p>But now he’s here, none of it seems quite enough. How can he express all that depth of feeling, all the turmoil that’s churning away inside?  How can words alone begin to express the enormity of it all? He can feel the tears prick at his eyes, but he doesn’t have the strength to hold them back. Gabriel tuts softly under his breath, frowning slightly as he reaches up and wipes the wetness from beneath Sam’s eyes, even as the wetness in his own eyes threatens to spill over. Sam has to lean a little closer to hear it, Gabriel’s voice little more than a hoarse whisper, but at those words he can’t help the smile that stretches across his features, a deep warmth blossoming from the center of his chest, soothing the pain away until all that he can feel is a deep all consuming fondness. All he can feel is love.</p><p>“…thought I told you already…” </p><p>Gabriel looks pointedly into Sam’s eyes before he tilts his head to the side, one eyebrow climbing up his forehead as his lips waver into a lopsided smile</p><p>“…reallllly not goin’ anywhere Hotsauce…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Phew. Yeah. Um. Anyway. I'm not crying, you're crying... ok I'm crying a lot. </p><p>Note on Luke: Luke doesn't know how to handle emotions. So he goes into inappropriate asshole mode. Yes he was filming Gabriel's butt when he tried to get out of bed because he thought it was hilarious. </p><p>Note on Gabriel's recovery: Yes I just almost did a movie special. But I was pretty sure no one wanted 7 chapters of painfully slow recovery again. This is likely not very realistic.</p><p>I shall be posting the two part epilogue very soon. I'm aiming for tomorrow so I can get this all out before GISH.</p><p>I think you can probably tell from the context but April is Doctor Green's first name. She's a character from Jericho.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Epilogue: part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just tying up a few loose ends... Oh who am I kidding, also lobbing a boat load of fluff at you.</p><p>Disclaimer: Probably unrealistic rate of recovery. Other disclaimer: I fell down a rabbit hole on research with legal stuff and I probably still didn't get it right. The time frames are likely too short, but hey lets assume they're super efficient in this verse. Apologies to anyone who knows a heck of a lot more than me, which is probably everyone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1 MONTH LATER</p><p>SAM</p><p>Sam stares down at his cellphone. What the hell just happened there? It was his intention to purchase one item. One hell of an important item, but still just one… not… He rubs a hand over his face. Gabriel wasn’t kidding, he really wasn’t. Sam had just assumed it was an excuse. That he was merely mortified by his predicament... by Sam finding him on the floor of his bedroom, in a sweaty tangle of limbs and leather straps. But… <em>Jesus</em>. That woman is one hell of a salesperson. Sam has absolutely no idea if they’ll make use of half the things he ordered. Maybe they can return some of it? He lets out a heavy sigh. It’s not as if he hadn’t considered something along those lines anyway, making that list and surprising Gabriel after the exhibition. Well two birds, one stone right?</p><p>The email arrives an instant later. He quickly checks the details over on his laptop, blushing lightly as he scrolls down the list. The custom item is at the bottom. Yes. That at least is exactly as he intended. He sucks in a breath. It’s kind of crazy, completely out of left field. But that’s what makes it meaningful, what makes it perfect… perfectly them. And it only made sense to search through the listings, search for that one specific place. To not just seek out someone who could carry out his specifications, but… the choice… that means something too.</p><p>He quickly types back a reply, confirming all the details are correct. He pauses for a moment, considers asking her to take a few items off the list… But… maybe the last few months have taught him a thing or two. Life is far too short and far too unpredictable. There’s no reason not to make the most things, for as long as they can.</p><p>He shrugs one shoulder absently, muttering under his breath. “What the hell.”</p><p>He hits send before he can change his mind and closes over the laptop. She assured him it would take only a few days. The order should arrive in plenty of time. So that’s… that’s it. There’s only one thing left to do. </p><p>The envelope is sitting in the top drawer of his desk. He draws it out and turns it over and over in his hands. Was this crazy too? Probably. The life of an artist is hardly financially stable. Sure his funding will kick in soon, but it’s still a little unclear just how long they’ll have to live on less income. Gabriel still has a little sick pay coming in, though it’s not as much as he’d usually make with tips and extra hours. He’s made good progress on his recovery, but he’s not quite ready to return to any of his jobs. Bar work is pretty physically demanding, janitorial work too. Maybe on a quieter shift, with support… But then there’s the emotional toll. Is he really ready to go back there after what happened? He won’t admit it, but Sam thinks it’s probably far too soon. The modeling work… the job he enjoys the most… With that one Sam really doesn’t have a clue. Gabriel still winces when he stretches. It’s improving, the physical therapy is helping to tone and recondition the damaged muscle. But… it’s possible the pain may never fully go away… Hopefully in time…</p><p>Given their situation it would have been a hell of a lot more sensible to secure all of the money from the sale of his panel in a savings account. It’s what he logically should have done. There’s no guarantee that he’ll ever make a decent sale again. He still struggles to believe that it happened at all. But apparently Crowley was impressed enough to return later in the exhibition and make that purchase. For his personal collection, thankfully. Sam’s not sure how he would have felt about the piece being displayed for a bunch of drunken people to perve over right in the center of some tacky nightclub. That wouldn’t have sat well with him at all. </p><p>$20,000… If he was careful it could have served as a decent financial nest egg. Logically...</p><p>But… No. There’s a time for logic and a time to put that all aside, at least for a little while. Gabriel’s been through so much. So goddamn much. The last month has been a difficult one. His recovery since the complication may have been steady and more rapid than they could have hoped for, but it certainly hasn’t been easy or painless. </p><p>It’s the emotional toll however that Sam’s been worried about the most. Because that… that’s the part that Gabriel won’t complain about. Instead he deflects, he constantly plays it down, he even on occasion, downright lies. Sam knows he has far more nightmares than he admits to and it often feels like there’s something he’s holding back.</p><p>It’s been a little better since Don Roman was convicted, Zachariah too. They attended neither trial in the end. Sam thought it would be too much for Gabriel so early in his recovery and thankfully Gabriel, for once, agreed. Attempted murder and aggravated assault were the main charges brought and Roman was convicted of both, along with a few additional lesser charges. With so many witnesses and the testimony of his former friend the trial did not last long at all. Dick and Vanessa Roman, his parents, both took the politic decision to distance themselves from their son, cutting off his trust fund at the same time. Perhaps a high end lawyer could have argued better for a lesser charge, maybe convinced him to plead insanity, but thankfully… or perhaps not so thankfully from Roman’s point of view… that was not the case. </p><p>Zachariah’s case was a little more complex. It was hoped that he would be convicted of conspiracy charges, but in the end there simply wasn’t enough evidence. He was however convicted of aiding and abetting for both incidents of assault. It wasn’t perhaps as satisfying as they all hoped. When his brother relayed what occurred at the trial, he expected some incident would have occurred. Luke was there after all, a decision that Sam was extremely uncomfortable about. But it wasn’t Luke who lost it in the end. He merely laughed and jeered. But when Zachariah made to reply… No one could have predicted it would have been Cas… to finally wipe the smile from Zachariah’s face. And to break his nose in the process. </p><p>Cas spent the night in a cell. But by all accounts it wasn’t an altogether uncomfortable experience. While steak dinners aren’t exactly the usual prison faire, apparently a very special exception was made that night. And with his release papers the next morning, Sheriff Hanscum sat him down and assured him. That she was not done with Zachariah, not by a long shot. </p><p>With each conviction the load seemed to lighten. At least a little more. For both of them. For all of them. Gabriel still has nightmares, plenty of them. But knowing that those who were responsible would pay, that meant something. </p><p>There’s still Naomi of course, still languishing in a cell, awaiting trial. Her case is more complex still, the web of deceit and corruption she wove, spanning decades, will take time to fully unravel. For the time being they have her for conspiracy and aggravated assault. But there are likely to be far more charges to come. Perhaps a civil case too, should Lisa proceed with her current plans. Apparently the Sheriff advised her it would be a good plan, when she visited during her investigation.</p><p>It’s been a hell of a lot to process. Gabriel’s seemingly coped well, but Sam isn’t sure how much that’s down to his strength of character and how much he’s simply choosing to ignore. Sam knows that one well; he lived with Dean long enough. </p><p>Sam stares down at the envelope. It’s the right thing to do. A little time away to heal, to process, to maybe just forget it all for a little while until it feels a little less raw, a little more manageable. And beyond that, he wants to give Gabriel what he always wanted, what he always deserved… the world. Or at least a little exotic slice of it. Sam smiles to himself. Screw financial security, it’s overrated anyway. Frankly it’s likely he won’t get this chance again. It’s high time he really spoiled the man he loves. </p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>Gabriel pouts. He throws his head back on the sofa and groans. <em> Come on Sam </em> . Yeesh. Just how long does it take to… actually he has no idea what Sam is doing. It sounded boring so he tuned it all out. Truth be told he’s going crazy here. Not just stir crazy, but crazy, crazy. Why the hell they couldn’t have just hopped on over to the cabin by now... Long summer days. Languid mornings in bed. Skinny dipping. Fucking on the porch swing afterwards. He rolls his eyes heavenwards. Yeah right… his ass is apparently made of glass, likely to shatter at the merest touch. It’s been over two weeks since they released him from hospital and his ass has gone practically untouched in all that time. A month and a half since they last fucked. He hasn’t had a dry spell this long since… well since he lost his ass virginity if you factor in toys. Ok so maybe he was a little, well, <em> comatose </em> for some of that time… but still. He practically feels virginal down there again. </p><p>He’s almost tempted to get the Samildo out, work it into himself right the hell now, let Sam come back through and catch him writhing and fucking himself senseless… But… damn it but no. He doesn’t want the Samildo, as pleasurable as that is. He wants Sam. Sam’s giant moose dick to be precise and Sam is resolutely refusing to play ball. Ok maybe he’s playing ball a little. His balls have never had quite so much attention lavished on them. There was even some licking and sucking last time, though Sam wasn’t quite so enamoured with Gabriel’s wild pubes when he got a few of those suckers caught in his mouth. Maybe that will encourage Sam to deviate from his current oral fixation. Much as Gabriel enjoys getting his cock and balls sucked on like he’s the tastiest treat, enough is enough.</p><p>Gabriel sighs and shifts a little. He should probably get up and move around, but he finds he has little motivation. What’s the point when every day is the same? When he spends the vast majority of his time stuck within these four walls. He’s over it. All of it. Netflix holds little interest. He’s already seen all he cares to see. He’s already worked his way through the last pile of trashy novels Sam grabbed from the library for him. And besides, getting himself all wound up without Sam popping that release… What’s the opposite of fun? That.</p><p>He huffs out a breath, reaching over to grab something off the top of the little stack beside him, wincing as a dull pain shoots up his side. Great, just fucking great. He spares a glare at his midsection before settling down. </p><p>Ellen brought a whole lot of these around for Sam the last time she visited. Thought it would give him a much needed boost. Not that he’s read most of them himself. Something about them being overly dramatic, focusing more on the story of their tragic love story, rather than the work itself. Admittedly some of them lay it on a little too thick. Usually the ones with quotes from a certain perky blonde eye witness whose name might start with a letter B. Gabriel has to admit he likes those best, especially when they wax lyrical on his thrilling heroics. Other articles… Well… Apparently there are peeps out there who can’t appreciate the sheer glory of his beautiful come face. Yeesh. </p><p>He wonders which category this one will fall into. Hmm student press. Could go either way. It doesn’t take long to find the article. There’s that all too familiar image. Cameras weren’t generally allowed in the exhibition, but Mags was doing the rounds with her SLR, grabbing a few images for the press. The angling is ingenious, it really is, the cocktail that the guest was holding perfectly eclipsing his exploding cock. Still… the image. Even in crappy newsprint. It still takes his breath away. He misses seeing it. But at least Sam took some high quality shots before taking the panel to the exhibition hall. Maybe he can convince Sam to get a print made, hang it on the wall in the studio, or hey why not out here? Gabriel knows Sam still finds it difficult to see the painting, without thinking about what happened. But in time… Hells maybe he can get Sam to get him a t-shirt too. He chuckles at the thought of it. Oh absolutely. </p><p>He scans quickly over the rest of the image. There’s Sam looking gloriously flustered. You can even see the slight flush on his cheeks. And there Gabriel is… just in frame, crouched beside Sam’s tall frame, huge majestic wings seemingly sprouting from his back. What Sam did… he almost looks… Gabriel swallows around the lump in his throat… He looks away to the text below. Yadda, yadda, yadda, praising Sam’s work to the hilt. Expounding on the artistic significance of his work but… oh there it is. He reads over the following paragraph.</p><p>“Oh come on!”</p><p>“You’re not reading the articles again are you?” Sam sighs dramatically as he shakes his glorious mane of hair majestically and struts into the room. </p><p>Ok maybe he got carried away there. Maybe Sam merely gave a long suffering look and walked… just walked. Damn it but he’s horny and Sam has no business looking so smokin hot when he’s not actually going to <em> do </em> anything with it. No business at all.</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes heavenwards at the admonishing half bitchface that forms on his lover’s features.</p><p>“It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do,” Gabriel whines, then immediately regrets it as the bitchface morphs into full blast puppy dog concern. He hastily averts his eyes back to the article only to groan again as he reads the next line.</p><p>Sam settles down beside him, gently taking the article from him and quickly scanning the page. He grimaces down at the paper before setting it aside. It’s been the same in so many of the supposedly high brow articles. Praise for the work, but frequently questioning Sam’s choice of model. Somehow completely missing the point. Because apparently Archangels don’t have love handles. Who knew?</p><p>“You didn’t read far enough… They…” Sam sighs, reaching out to absently brush an errant lock from his forehead. “They were actually pretty complimentary in the end. Called you ah… unconventionally handsome…”</p><p>He trails off, making a face. Gabriel shrugs a shoulder. He doesn’t actually care. </p><p>“You’re beautiful Gabe.” Gabriel tries not to roll his eyes as Sam leans in and plants a kiss on the tip of his nose.</p><p>Yes so beautiful that his lover’s barely touched him in weeks… But he knows that’s unfair. Sam’s just… he’s just ultra afraid of hurting him. He gets it a little, but at times… damn at times, he wonders if Sam’s just not as attracted to him like this. All scrawny and chicken legged, barely a muscle left on him, though apparently still miraculously a little flabby about the middle. Maybe those hellishly annoying advertisements aren’t lying after all… Belly fat is the hardest damned thing to shift. Or maybe it was all that ‘Get Well’ candy… Maybe. He huffs out a breath, trying not to let his insecurities show, as Sam moves back.</p><p>“I ah… have something to talk to you about.”</p><p>Oh God, please don’t be about the therapy again. He can’t take the nagging any more. He’s been through it enough. The last thing he wants is to open up the damn wound again and expound on his feelings. But there’s an odd look on Sam’s face. Not apprehension, but excitement. Ooh does this mean they’re going to fuck again? Gabriel raises an eyebrow.</p><p>But instead of throwing Gabriel back on the sofa, stripping him bare and ploughing lustfully inside, Sam reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope. He worries at his lips a moment, before meeting Gabriel’s eyes. This is important. Clearly important. Gabriel’s heartbeat starts to pick up. He thinks ludicrously for a moment that maybe it’s a marriage license… then immediately chastises himself for the thought. Sam’s not… Sam’s not there yet. And besides, this would be one weird ass proposal.</p><p>He scoots his butt up a little from his slumped position, taking hold of the envelope, feeling a little thrill as their fingers brush. Damn it he’s on a hair trigger all right. Getting a semi over some simple finger frottage. He draws his lower lip into his mouth, feeling Sam’s expectant gaze on him as he opens the envelope and pulls out the contents.</p><p>He stares at them for a good long while, gaping stupidly at the flimsy card in his hands. This is… Never in a million years would have expected that Sam would…</p><p>“You’re taking me to Hawaii?!”</p><p>Sam merely nods, a wide satisfied smile on his face.</p><p>“In two weeks time?!”</p><p>Sam laughs lightly, looking incredibly pleased with himself.</p><p>“All the ah… ‘exotic dick rubbing’ you can withstand.”</p><p>Holy shit. Holy shit. This is… Holy shit!! A strangled noise escapes him that is almost worthy of Sam. He hurriedly shoves the tickets down on the coffee table and surges forward, grabbing handfuls of Sam’s hair and capturing his lips in a deep kiss, for once easily ignoring the unpleasant pull in his side. Sam hesitates only a moment and then his hands are in Gabriel’s hair too, kissing back with just as much passion, with just as much love.</p><p>Something stutters deep inside his chest, the strength of feeling bursting forth and obliterating the niggling doubts. No one has ever done something like this for him. No one has ever shown him such care and love. And all the rest doesn’t matter. Because Sam loves him. Really truly loves him. And that… that is all he needs in the world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes after all that I am most definitely taking the boys to Hawaii! I'm just in the ideas spinning stage, but it's happening. And yes I am being deliberately vague about what Sam just ordered. The details are for the next fic ;)</p><p>Reality check notes:<br/>Ok, so I thought about detailing the trials a little more but I was sure I would screw that up. I do not watch enough legal dramas to even get that vaguely plausible. I'm not sure if these trials could have happened so quickly. There was clearly a lot of evidence with Roman since it was out in the open and I'm kind of assuming a low crime area so there wouldn't be a backlog. I'm thinking the Naomi one would definitely take longer hence that one not being resolved.</p><p>Rate of recovery... hoo boy. It seems to vary wildly. Gabriel mostly had muscle damage a dangerous levels of blood loss. I'm assuming there was a fair bit of healing done in the coma. I checked on some surgery recovery times and... well maybe this is fairly reasonable... maybe. Hopefully not so out there to be ridiculous. He still has a lot of recovery ahead of him to regain strength and he's still having issues with pain.</p><p>Other notes:<br/>Annnnnnnd 1 epilogue wasn't enough after that. The next one is coming up. I am very aware I've left Dean and Cas in limbo so....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Epilogue: part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pfft who needs one epilogue, when you can have two. A fluffnado ahead...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>4 WEEKS LATER</p><p>DEAN</p><p><em> Son of a bitch </em> . Dean looks back at the ridiculous image, Gabriel wearing some stupid ball cap, one of those awful ones they sell to tourists. <em> I got Lei’d in Hawaii. </em> Yeah no shit, but Dean really doesn’t want to know about it. Seriously. Then there’s the shirt. Christ is it hideous. Slightly…no score that, <em> very </em> manic grin on his face. And Sam standing beside him, hunched over so that Gabriel’s arm can stretch up over his shoulders. Face twisted into what Dean presumes was supposed to be a smile, but it’s edging perilously into awkward teen yearbook territory. <em>Sammy, Sammy, Sammy.</em> Dean lets out a laugh, shaking his head. It’s about damn time, but all the same…</p><p>“Son of a bitch.”</p><p>Cas looks up from the ancient text he’s practically drowning in, tilting his head and furrowing his brow. Dean averts his eyes. He can’t look at that shit without… without… Hell…</p><p>Something twists deep in his gut. He doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but these last few weeks… it’s pretty damn clear that Cas isn’t. He may have been invited back home, he may have even been invited back into Cas’ bed, but they still haven’t…. There’s a distance there, something holding them apart. They haven’t really talked. Normally he would see that as a plus. But this time, with Cas, he isn’t so sure. And now… He glances at the screen, at the words right there at the bottom. Well shit, they really can’t put it off any longer.</p><p>He looks back at Cas, who’s still regarding him with confusion. Ah fuck, looking into those eyes. No he can’t do it that way. He averts his gaze, looking at the empty beer bottle beside him instead. He wishes to hell he’d held a little back. But then he was hardly expecting this. He swallows around the lump in his throat.</p><p>“Are we ok?”</p><p>He mentally curses himself. That was weak. Weak as all hell. He sounds like a frickin 13 yr old girl. Cas makes a little noise, one he can’t quite decipher, but he somehow can’t bring himself to look Cas in the eyes, because if he does, maybe he’ll see that answer all too well.</p><p>“Dean I…” Cas pauses.</p><p>Dean’s stomach lurches uncomfortably as he waits for Cas to confirm what he knows in his heart is true. That they’re not ok. That what he did… what he <em>broke</em>… can’t be fixed after all.</p><p>“I have not been fair to you, have I?” </p><p>Dean’s head whips up, searching Cas’ face, hardly daring to hope. Cas sighs heavily, placing the tome on the table beside him and making his way around the breakfast bar to where Dean is perched. He stares mutely as Cas reaches out, taking hold of his hand. This could go either way. He can’t quite read Cas' intent and it scares the crap out of him.</p><p>“Dean I… I’m sorry…”</p><p>His stomach drops; he feels like the ground has been swept out beneath him. No<em> fuck</em>… No matter how much he told himself that it was worth it, he’s starting to doubt that to his very core. But he won’t cause Cas any more hurt, won’t curse or beg or do any of that Chick flick shit. It’s Cas’ decision. If he can’t forgive Dean, then he’s well within his rights- When he feels the hand on his face he almost startles. He looks up at Cas’ furrowed brow.</p><p>“No Dean… that is not… not what I meant.” He lets out a long sigh, looking briefly away, but when their eyes meet again, Dean can see nothing but warmth in his gaze. At the sight of it his heart stutters in his chest. “Dean I needed time to… Everything that happened… I feared that my family was breaking apart and that, what you did… It felt like you showed very little regard for that, or for me.”</p><p>Dean opens his mouth to argue, but closes it with a snap at the look in Cas’ eyes.</p><p>Cas sighs again, stroking gently over Dean’s face. “But I know that was not your intention. I am still not happy that you chose to hide it from me… But I think I understand that also.” He shakes his head, a small laugh escaping from his lips. “However if you choose to willfully lie to me again about something so important…”</p><p>Dean has to swallow again as Cas raises one eyebrow, heat pooling rapidly in his groin. Ah… Shit. He clears his throat, gaze catching on the email still on the screen. He can’t help the small laugh that escapes him at the sight of his brother’s goofy grin.</p><p>“So we’re ah…” He clears his throat again.</p><p>Cas chuckles lightly, still stroking his face in a way that’s rapidly becoming distracting. “Yes Dean, yes we are.”</p><p>Dean's face splits into a wide grin. He can't help it. The relief is immense. He feels kinda giddy. Kinda like that 13 year old girl, just getting asked to prom. And he doesn't care how ridiculous that is. Not one bit.</p><p>“That’s awesome... uh… Because it looks like we’re going to Hawaii.”</p><p>Dean’s dick actually jumps in his pants at the baffled look on his lover’s face. Shit, it has been a while and that look, that look does it to him almost as much as the damn eyebrow.  But first… He turns Cas’ laptop around and points towards the screen. The way Cas’ face lights up as he reads sends his heart galloping away in his chest, his own lips stretching into a matching smile… Only to falter a second later.</p><p>“Crap.”</p><p>Cas is back to looking baffled again and maybe a little concerned.</p><p>“Ah we can’t… we can’t drive to Hawaii can we?”</p><p>Cas shakes his head regretfully, that same eyebrow arching an instant later. The sight of it derails Dean’s thoughts completely. </p><p>“We cannot miss our brothers’ wedding Dean. I shall just have to find a way to… distract you.”</p><p>Dean swallows again, his jeans feeling way too tight. He closes the laptop over quickly. They can sort all that shit out later. </p><p>Now… now he’s dying for a little more of that distraction…</p><p>~~~</p><p>GABRIEL</p><p>“Any reply?”</p><p>“Hmm, nope Samsquatch. Nada.” </p><p>Sam fidgets nervously with his cuff. “Dean’s kinda scared of flying… what if he won’t…”</p><p>Gabriel rolls his eyes. Pulease. As if Dean-o would miss this. There’s no way in hell.</p><p>“Give them time to fuck it out. They’ll get back to us soon enough.”</p><p>Sam’s face twists in the most adorable manner. </p><p>“Jesus Gabe.”</p><p>Gabriel chuckles and sets Sam’s laptop aside. “Come on Maria, don’t act all shy and coy. You know they’ve been having problems in the bedroom department ever since-”</p><p>“Christ Gabe I really don’t want to discuss our brothers’ sex life and I really don’t need to know how you know that, just…” He speaks in a rush, trying to stop Gabriel from interjecting. Gabriel smirks and starts making a few motions with his hands instead. He knows Sam understands them now. “Christ will you just stop it.”</p><p>Gabriel chuckles heartily and makes a few more. Sam pouts, looks away, shakes his head and then… then he clearly decides that the only way to shut him up is-</p><p>Gabriel groans as 6ft 4” of gloriously tanned ‘swimsuit edition’ hotness is suddenly above him. The hammock groans as well, swinging precariously. But a moment later he doesn’t care, as Sam grabs his still motioning hands, bringing them up by his head and holding them firmly as their lips meet in a deep passionate kiss. And suddenly he’s floored, completely floored by the insistent press of his lover’s tongue, by the very insistent press of something else against his thigh. Holy hotcakes. He can’t believe that he gets to have this. That in three days time they’ll seal the deal once and for all. His heart somersaults in his chest, perky gymnast all woken up in there and enthusiastically practicing her elaborate, tumbling floor routine. </p><p>Who would have thought it? Less than a year ago he was coasting through life. Not unhappy per se. But certainly unfulfilled. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would end up here. Not here, here… Though hoo boy did he not see that coming either. And no stuffy lecture theatres in sight! But here at this juncture of his existence. That in three short days he’ll marry the love of his life.</p><p>Gabriel never really believed in happy ever afters, never thought they applied to him. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe… just maybe… this is his.</p><p>Or is it horny ever afters? He gasps as Sam grinds down on him, his dick drawing deliciously over the rock hard abs above him, precome seeping into the thin material of his shorts. And he decides at this moment… It’s both. Definitely both.</p><p> </p><p>THE END... or is it?</p><p>TO BE CONTINUED...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I can't believe it's finally done! Holy crap was that a journey and a half. When I started this two parter I knew pretty much where it was going, I had the major plot points down, but I had no idea how epically long this would become. How smutty. How damn angsty. It went a whole lot darker that I expected. But I hope... hope that the light at the end of the tunnel was worth it.</p><p>While it feels very much like the closing of the book, I'm just not done with this verse. I love my boys too much. I have no idea how long it will take but I'm in the plotting stage of one reasonably long fic (Hawaii baby!!) and I have vague plot bunnies about another. Then I'm thinking, maybe a vignette. But whatever happens, even if I do go off into other verses and standalones I think I'll still be revisiting this verse from time to time. So this is an end of sorts... but at the same time, a beginning.</p><p>Huge sincere thanks to everyone who stuck it out with me through this huge monster of a fic. I have appreciated every single kudos and comment I've received. And I'm so sorry for making you all cry... repeatedly. I promise some soothing smut and fluff in the near future. If you don't already feel free to join me on <a href="https://samshine-and-lollipops.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>. I mostly obsess over Rich and post the occasional art. Sometimes they're not awful. Sayonara, kemosabe. Until next time...</p>
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